


Sansa's Self-Immolation

by Maracuya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Casterly Rock, F/M, King's Landing, Lannisport, Modern Westeros, Moral Dilemmas, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn, Qarth, Sex Toys, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-10-25 21:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 47,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maracuya/pseuds/Maracuya
Summary: Sansa wants to save her family - and she offers herself to the Lion of Lannister in exchange for his support. Little does she anticipate how thoroughly Lord Tywin will make use of this chance. And little does he expect how thoroughly he will immerse himself into this agreement.





	1. Baelish's idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts), [Zip001](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zip001/gifts).



> This is just another sandbox project of mine. I don't own anything. Everything belongs to George Martin.
> 
> Uuuuh. This thing has been tormenting my mind for months. Lots and lots of smut ahead.  
> Usually, I'm not interested in modern AUs at all... looks like this is one of the rare exceptions that prove the rule.

_"My eighteenth birthday should be different."_

That much Sansa knew. She looked out the window, her features stony.

_"Nobody should learn your family is almost bankrupt on your eighteenth birthday."_

 

 

Of course, her father had not wanted to tell her, especially not on this particular day, but Sansa was not blind. She had seen her parents' faces turn cavernous and tense over the last weeks, all light of happiness gone from their eyes. So Sansa had asked. Before her coming of age, her parents had evaded her questions and as a dutiful daughter, she had acquiesced to their wish.

But now, she was an adult, and she had emphasized this fact until her father had given in with a strained sigh.

"Sansa, our enterprise isn't going well. At the moment, it looks as if we have to file for bankruptcy next month."

 

The news had been like a punch right in to her stomach. Oh, she didn't fear much for herself. Her studies at university were going well, and ever since Tyrion Lannister was Hand Chancellor, tuition fees had been abolished.

For a moment, she grimaced when her thoughts meandered from Tyrion Lannister to the man's sadist and deranged nephew Joffrey, whom she had dated a while ago - until she had learned of the young man's dark side.

Quickly, Sansa's mind pushed back those squirmy memories and returned to the present. She knew that while she herself would be all right, she did fear for her parents, especially for her father. He had not wanted to become the CEO of Stark Enterprises and had always pointed out that his dead brother Brandon had been better suited for this job - but Eddard Stark had lived and breathed for his business and his employees nevertheless. Bankruptcy wouldn't just mean a financial crisis for her family; Sansa knew her father would also see it as a personal failure.

 _"He'll break,"_ Sansa realised, clutching her heart.  _"And mother, too."_

A tear rolled down her cheek. Was this what being grown up meant?

 

_"I need to do something. I must help them. Somehow. No matter what it takes."_

But what could she do?

_"Maybe I should ask Baelish. After all, he's father's public relations manager. All the world is his brother. He might have an idea."_

 

As it turned out, Petyr Baelish actually had a clear stance on the matter when Sansa sought him out in his office.

"I've told your father for a while that he should streamline the corporate structure, my dear, but in these respects your father is... a conservative man, I fear."

He stroked his goatee, and Sansa remembered her father grumble one evening when he had thought she wasn't listening: "If I followed Littlefinger's advice, I'd be firing worthy long-time employees left, right and centre. But I'm not into social dumping."

 _"Sadly, it looks as if Baelish has been right,"_   Sansa thought, and her jaws worked.

Finally, she asked: "Is there anything we can do to prevent bankruptcy? Anaythin I can do?"

 

Baelish sighed.

"My dear, _dear_ Sansa, the Braavosi ECAI has downgraded the rating of your father's business. As a consequence, the Iron Bank doesn't want to cooperate with your father anymore."

"Couldn't we attract some sort of... of... investor?" Sansa asked. She knew little about big business, but even she could count to ten, and investors were the most important players in the Game of Money.

Her father's public relations manager snickered darkly and played with his silvery pen with an embossed mockingbird on it. Next, he opened a box with mint candy, took a pastille, and offered her one, too. She declined, shaking her head.

 

"And who do you think we should win over to our cause, Sansa?" Baelish asked. "How about your old connections... to the Baratheon and Lannister families?"

Sansa thought of Joffrey and curled her lips in distaste.

"I fear there's nothing but scorched earth in the capital," she murmured and looked down.

"Ah, I see," the Mockingbird commented. "Hmmm... but there's not only the clan in the capital. The biggest Westerosi investor is Lord Lannister in the West."

 _"Tywin Lannister? Sweet Mother, that's the coldest fish in the pond,"_ Sansa thought.  _"What would I have to do with him?"_

She remembered how even the Baratheons and Lannisters in King's Landing had only ever spoken of the man with a warbled mix of fear, disgust, respect, and hatred.

 

She spoke: "Sadly, I've never met him, so I don't see a chance to make him inclined to support Stark Enterprises."

Baelish rubbed his lip with his thumb, then stroked his goatee, deep in thought.

He explained, looking into the distance: "The point is that he's the man with the fattest purse and the highest economical - and social - standing. He's actually the only one who could still prevent bankruptcy."

His eyes snapped back to her. A shiver ran down Sansa's spine.

Her father's public relations manager said: "As it is, I've got an idea. There's something you can do, Sansa dear. It's a well-kept secret, but I happen to know that Lord Lannister occasionally books a discrete woman at Chataya's escort service to take care of his intimate needs. Chataya still owes me a favour. I could orchestrate a meeting between you and the old lion at the Rock when he's in need of distraction the next time. You'll seduce and entertain him, and he'll help your father in exchange."

 

Sansa's hair stood on end.

"I'm not a whore!" she exclaimed.

"Of course you're not," Baelish agreed. "Lord Lannister would never book a whore. He's in favour of classy women. He's got his standards. And you're a woman with good manners, a gentle soul, and a clear idea. A lady. You're worrying about your father, and you're right to do so. I didn't want to tell you, but after the last executive meeting I accidentally saw him in his office - he was deep in thought and staring at a revolver in his hands."

An icy knot formed in Sansa's stomach.

 _"Gods!"_ she thought.  _"I need to talk to the Lord of Lannister. I guess there's no other chance. Hopefully, I won't have to serve him in an intimate way... but given the assole he allegedly is, I better prepare for the worst case scenario."_


	2. Into battle

Once Sansa had resolved to go along with Baelish's outrageous idea, she planned the next steps as meticulously as if it were a military mission.

_"I've never been with a man, but Lord Lannister mustn't know,"_ she thought. _"He'll surely want an experienced woman, not a clueless girl."_

So she tiptoed into Robb's room the same day while her brother was away. She had always pretended not to know, but she was aware of the fact that Robb had subscribed to a porn channel on the Internet. Luckily, he had left the password that would grant her access on a sticky note on his desk.

Sansa had never watched porn film, because she found the lack of romance disgusting, but the videos were probably good educational material with regard to her appointment with Lord Lannister.

 

After four hours of binge watching all possible positions and kinks she often found perverse, Sansa felt nauseous.

_"Now, I need to prepare my body for a tumble with this man,"_ she thought although she was almost discouraged after the porn videos. _"It won't do to bleed onto the lord's precious linen."_

So she had a look at an erotic online shop and ordered several objects she deemed helpful.

 

The next day, the postman delivered a parcel that looked utterly harmless, but its content caused Sansa to flush scarlet when she unpacked it in private. The first item was a black laced open cup shelf bra; Sansa thought that her breasts were attractive and would probably look even more enticing if put on display in an adequate form. The object in question went along with a crotchless lacy hipster with a corset tie backside and garters. From what Sansa knew, Lord Lannister was a conservative man, so she hoped he'd appreciate a somewhat old-fashioned, but elegent apparel.

She reached into the parcel again and grabbed a completely different object. It was a lubricant that was supposed to smell and to taste of vanilla. Sansa expected not to get aroused around a cold, elderly man like Lord Lannister - and even more so since he was Joffrey's grandfather. Sansa's and Joffrey's short-term relationship had ended more than four years before, but Sansa could still recollect how she had not been able to make the step from a chaste peck on the lips to fully-fledged snogging. At that point, Joffrey had become nasty and had sought to humiliate her wherever and whenever he had been able to... until Sansa had finally ended her time at a boarding school in King's Landing and had returned to Winterfell.

Bearing these disgusting experiences in mind, it was only prudent to ensure artificially her body would be ready to receive Lord Lannister.

 

The next product she had purchased was massging oil with a sandalwood fragrance. She didn't know whether the lord at the Rock would appreciate it, but she guessed that a business man like him was stressed. Maybe, his muscles would be in need of some more tender care?

Sansa made a face at the prospect and turned to the next item. It was a smooth, tapering, silvery vibrator, roughly the size of a penis, waterproof and with a pink butterfly design. It looked harmless enough, but Sansa's flush deepened when she looked at it.

She had touched herself a few times over the last year, despite her septa's strict moral education. This thing here was going far beyond what her fingers could do. She'd use this... this object to prepare her body so she'd know what lust was, even if she wouldn't feel it around Lord Lannister. What was more, she intended to prepare herself in such a way that she woudn't bleed if she became intimate with the man who was infamous for his harsh demeanour. And while getting ready for thim, she intended to have as much fun as possible.

_"Young men do such things all the time,"_ she thought, remembering Theon Greyjoy's countless ribald jokes.

 

However, her preparations for the meeting with Lord Lannister didn't end at this point. This wasn't just about erotic experiences after all. The encounter would happen so has to help Sansa's father.

Thus, Sansa did some research on the corporate structure as well as the production and the sales numbers of Stark Enterprises and learned the information by heart. After all, Lord Lannister would need details if he decided to help her.

The last thing Sansa did was to get informed about the big investor himself. Oh, she had heard some quite appalling details here and there, but she didn't have a comprehensive picture. After two more days, she thought she had learned everything about the man that was available to the public. She had also looked at tons of pictures on the Internet.

_"He's a distinguished man and was quite handsome in his youth - but his cold stare would have always caused me to want to flee,"_ she thought. _"Gods, what am I doing? To intend to seduce such a man... To imagine he'd ever be willing to help me and my family..."_

She shook her head and was about to cancel the project - but then, she saw her father's hollow, hopeless eyes at dinner, and she switched back on track with her plans.

 

There was more she had to prepare.

Lord Lannister demanded a recent health certificate - and obviously provided the same for Madame Chataya each time he booked a woman. The booking contract included the conditions that a) he didn't use condoms and thus demanded a healthy woman, and b) that the woman in question had to take care of contraception in other ways and that he'd not pay for a bastard resulting from the intimate encounter.

Baelish grinned at her when she read the terms in his presence.

"Many men are like that, my dear. Especially the rich ones. Lord Lannister and others like him pay five hundred to two thousand gold stags for a quality night at Chataya's escort service. That includes outstanding privileges, if you get my meaning. Madame Chataya's women aren't standard whores. They've got a maximum of one or two customers per week, as far as I know. And it's always an arrangement for the whole night."

Sansa's eyebrows rose, and she thought she'd be thick on Baelish's desk. It took her a moment to regain her composure.

 

The last thing she had to do was to book a city trip once she got the call and the exact date when she was needed at the Rock. To her surprise, she realised it would be Lord Lannister's nameday once she got the desired - and dreaded - piece of information.

_"Is this the way widowed men celebrate these days?"_ she wondered.

 

The same evening, she said to her mother she intended to enjoy a wellness weekend at the seaside, and that she had saved enough money and didn't need anything from her and her father.

Arya, who had overheard this conversation, rolled up her eyes.

"Really, Sansa - our parents are in utter despair, and you can think of nothing else but a wellness weekend?"

"That's exactly why I need a moment off," Sansa retorted and thought: " _If only you knew..."_


	3. Eye to eye

Her first impression of Lannisport was a good one when she arrived at the railway station. The streets were clean, the architecture pleasant to the eyes - be it medieval architecture or modern style.

Sansa had booked a room in a little, unobtrusive and a bit outdated pension. Since she didn't want to attract any unwanted attention, she had also dyed her hair brown. The working name under which she had been registered at Chataya's for the time being was Alayne. Sansa wondered how Lord Lannister would react once he found out the truth about her identity.

 _"If I manage to satisfy him, he'll be more lenient,"_ she tried to tell herself.

 

The pension turned out to be perfect for her plans. It was close to the Rock, small, and the landlady didn't show much interest in Sansa. Once Sansa received the keys she was free to come and go as she pleased without raising any suspicion.

The room was clean, the furniture simple, but there was a WLAN system. And the bed was soft. That was all Sansa needed. She wouldn't spend much time in this place anyway.

It was already the day of her appointment with the Lord of Lannister, but she still had some hours to go. So she decided to take a bath and to prepare as best she could. But even the hot water and the lush bubbles smelling of peaches couldn't quell her growing jumpiness. She wanted to take a long nap before her night-time activities - but how would this be possible if she was so nervous?

In the end, she opted for a strategy she usually didn't take: a double whiskey. Since she wasn't used to booze, it did help, and she fell asleep.

 

The alarm clock of her mobile phone woke her up, playing her oldie playlist, which had somehow shuffled up "You're my mate". Sansa yawned and furrowed her brow at the song.

After a minute or two, her nervousness came back... and reached new heights when she put on her sexy underwear. Above, she'd wear a fitted dark grey blouse and white trousers - nothing that was tantalising at first sight but that was still becoming.

 

Across the street, there was a deli. She went over for a light dinner and chose a chicken burrito and a salad with goat cheese. It was not as if she were hungry, but she thought it was possible she'd need more than a little energy that night.

 _"I wonder what Lord Lannister has been doing on his nameday so far,"_ she thought and hoped he'd be in a good mood.

Back in her room in the pension, she applied the lubricant to be ready and waited for the taxi. It was punctual, and Sansa's stomach somersaulted when she saw it.

 

The vehicle took her uphill to Casterly Rock, the old fortress high above Lannisport where House Lannister had resided for centuries. Sansa had already found out that - unlike many other owners of ancient castles, such as her father - Lord Lannister hadn't opened the building to the public, neither in the form of a museum nor in the form of a hotel. He obviously used his riches to keep his premises private. Sansa was grateful for this; in her delicate situation, she didn't want to run into any more persons than absolutely necessary.

 

In the main yard, an employee in a tailored working suit was already awaiting her and led her inside.

"The lord will meet you in his private wing. In his solar, to be precise," the employee - an elderly man with very short, grey hair - told her.

"I see - thanks for the information," was all Sansa could say.

 

The building was impressive, just as she had predicted. Lord Lannister had keept much of the ancient atmosphere. Renovations to provide more luxury, such as electric designer chandeliers, were stylistically in line with the rest.

It was all quite daunting.

A door opened, and Sansa entered the personal realm of Westeros' richest investor. The interior design was befitting a man of his position: there was an oval meeting table for visitors, and there was the lord's desk at the rear of the room, of course. The furniture was made of massive wood in a dark red hue - Dornish rosewood, probably. Heavy, soft carpets in a yellowish tone added to an impression of red and gold - the ancient family colours, as Sansa had learned from an online encyclopedia.

"The lord will meet you in a short moment," the employee informed her and left her alone.

 

From a side door, Sansa heard the splashing sound of a tap.

 _"A bathroom. He's refreshing himself,"_ she couldn't help but think.

Insecure, her eyes wandered around. On the desk, she noticed a golden lion stature with a bow around the neck and a card that said in big letters: "Happy nameday, Ty - Kevan." Next to the stature was a big, slightly faded photo of a beautiful, fair-haired woman. The frame looked as if it were made of massive gold. It probably was.

 

In the adjacent bathroom, a mobile phone rang. Sansa recognised the jingle as Simon and Garfunkel's "He was my brother", an oldie she knew because her great-uncle Brynden liked it. How confusing.

Anyway.

Sansa used the moment to switch off her own mobile at once.

 

The next instant, she heard Lord Lannister's voice for the first time - and the sharp edge in it caused her hopes to sink.

"Yes? - What do you mean, Kev, you... - Really, I don't care. - No, I don't care if it's New Year's Day in Sothoryos. They've got a contract, and they've got to fulfil it. - Pfft, Kev, you know just as well... - Yes. All right. Make sure that the production... All right, all right. I'm counting on you. Roast their arses, if necessary. And now, I'm offline, understood? - Yes, like every year. - No, I don't want to come ov... - Sure, I'll be all right. - Yes. Good night. And don't forget the Sothoryan tablet PCs. - Yes. See you tomorrow. Bye."

 

If Sansa's heart had been palpitating already, she was now close to fainting, and the blood was whooshing in her ears.

The bathroom door opened, and Lord Lannister entered. He was wearing elegant dark trousers and a white button-down shirt. No more than one open button at the collar told Sansa that he was undergoing a transition from daytime business to a more private part of the evening.

Sansa knew well enough what the lord looked like, but nothing could have prepared her for the energy he radiated. She looked into steely green eyes flecked with gold and knew she was doomed.

 

"Good evening, Lord Lannister," she said. And then, her mouth added unbidden: "Happy nameday."

She blushed.

The elderly man in front of her stared her up and down. There was nothing gentle about his gaze.

And then, he said in a voice dripping with annoyment: "Miss Sansa Stark, I presume?"


	4. The Lion's dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fasten your seatbelts - we move over to Tywin's POV.

_"How much worse can this day turn?"_ Tywin thought, and his jaws worked. _"I've been up since five a.m., I've been working since six a.m.; the blockheaded, unreliable Sothoryans have unnerved me all day... I wanted to relax - is that too much to ask for? I only ever take a few hours off on my nameday. And now? Now, I've got this blasted girl in front of me, rather than a competent escort woman. Fuck it all!"_

Speaking of the girl in question - she had winced at his words and looked positively cheesy now. Tywin had no wish to see the remains of her dinner on his fine carpets, so he approached her with a few quick strides, clasped her arm in an iron grip and steered her towards the meeting table.

"How did you recognise me?" she asked feebly.

"Pfft!" Tywin huffed. "I didn't know anyone would consider me retarded. I happen to know your mother, and you look the very image of her when she was younger - apart from this ridicolous dyed hair. And a few years ago, Joff's homepage was chock full with photos of you. How would I not be able to recognise you?"

 

Sansa Stark gasped and looked at him with huge blue eyes. Obviously from the Tully side.

Truth be told, Tywin wouldn't have recognised her so easily if he hadn't conversed with his brother about the latest negative rumours considering Stark Enterprises some hours prior. These rumours also gave him the idea for why this girl was here, in front of him.

_"She wants my money. Like everyone else."_

Lord Tywin curled his lips in distaste.

 _"Miller must have mistaken her for Madame Chataya's woman. Just how on earth could anyone think her a professional? I'll send the bastard to the seven hells!_ "

 

Aloud, he said: "It doesn't matter who you are. I've got no time for you. I've got an appointment. I'll call the servant to see you out."

At that moment, Sansa Stark opened her mouth and said: "You're waiting for Alayne."

Lord Tywin turned rigid.

_"Fuck, how does she know about...? The traitor! I'll never book a woman at Chataya's again!"_

He spat: "It's none of your business who I'm waiting for, I -"

"I am Alyane," Sansa Stark cut in.

 

It didn't happen often that Tywin was speechless. This was one of such rare moments. He blinked.

"I'm working for Madame Chataya now. Truth be told - you're my first customer, Lord Lannister," the girl in front of him peeped.

"Balderdash!" was the next best thing Lord Tywin could come up with. His mind was rattling. "I can remember Joff bleat how you were too inhibited to... what were his exact words?... to piss straight."

 

Sansa Stark's cheesy complexion changed to an interesting shade of red. All other women he knew would run away screaming now. And not only women. Tywin was in the worst possible mood, and he knew it showed. He wanted it to show.

The girl breathed in and and out and answered: "That was more than four years ago. I was so much younger then. And innocent. But times have changed."

In the most acid tone he could bring up, Tywin seethed: "I've heard your father is in financial problems, but I didn't think anyone could come up with the idea that a little prostitution could even out the lacking sums."

 

At this point, even Kevan would shit his pants in fear, Tywin knew.

Strange as it was, though, Sansa Stark did tremble, yes - but she also knitted her brows, and there was a spark of defiance in her eyes.

"My lord, it is true that I would like to ask you for a piece of advice from you... or even your support, should you feel inclined; but I won't delude myself into believing that I could actually have an influence on you. Everyone knows that you're too independent and too strong for that. For the time being, I'm just here to serve you the way you want to have it."

 

Tywin couldn't help himself - he was impressed. Granted, the girl was naive and stupid if she had the faintest hope he'd ever lift a finger for Eddard Stark... but she had guts, he had to give her that. It was more than most people had.

At the same, Tywin could see clearly enough that Sansa Stark was as far away from being an escort woman as a dragon egg turned stone from a hatching mouse. She was probably deceiving herself, thinking she could handle a business fuck with him. That in itself only proved how clueless she was.

 _"But I'll make her see the truth,"_ he thought. _"I'll make her admit she doesn't want all this. Two minutes from now, and she'll be begging me to let her go."_

If he couldn't have a woman on his nameday, humiliating someone was probably the next best thing. Of course, he wouldn't rape Sansa Stark. He had no taste for it, in contrast to some of his minions. He wouldn't fuck her, that much was sure. It would be sufficient to let her feel his power.

 

So his voice changed to a dangerous purr.

"Serve me? And you think you could satisfy me? Do tell me - how would you go about it to seduce me?"

Sansa Stark's blue eyes were as big as those in one of the stupid mangas his granddaughter liked. The girl on the meeting chair in front of him coughed, and started to open her blouse with frantic movements, which were a lot, but certainly not sexy. Her trembling fingers barely managed to open the buttons of her clothes.

Tywin arched an eyebrow and was on the brink of a nasty comment... when the fabric opened and he got a view on the most ridiculous caricature of an open bra he had ever seen. He would have howled with laughter, had he had any sense of humour. And had he not seen pert rosy nipples that caused his previously flaccid cock to give a surprised twitch.

Tywin bared his teeth. Was he surrounded by traitors? Madame Chataya, his very own cock even...

 _"Why am I still surprised?_ " he thought. _"_ _It's_ _not as if traitors around me were a recent development."_

Sansa Stark's bosom was heaving, and the growing rod in Tywin's trousers twitched again.

 

Tywin leaned forward until his nose was right above her skin and inhaled. Sansa Stark smelled sweet. Of course she did. His cock was getting dangerously close to enthusiasm. Not good, given that it would be over any moment.

Tywin allowed his breath to meet her skin.

 

Her nipples tightened, and her lips parted a little.

Tywin had to suppress a curse.

Instead, he lifted a hand and allowed his index finger to trail the sensitive skin on the underside of a breast.

Sansa Stark stared at his finger, mesmerised, and uttered the tiniest gasp. So Tywin cupped her breast and let his thumb circle the nipple. To make things worse, he felt the sudden urgent need to taste the skin that was in the process of flushing everywhere.

He murmured: "What would you say if I licked your teats?"

The girl gasped, and he thought it was over.

But then, she spoke: "Please go ahead."

 

Tywin blinked.

Next, he inclined his head and purred: "Say it."

"Say what?" It was no more than a squeak.

He closed his eyes.

_"She SO isn't an escort woman."_

He opened his eyes again and said: "Ask me to lick your teats. Otherwise, we can also leave it at that."

 

For a moment, her lips moved, but she remained silent. Then, she regained control over her voice.

"I... err... okay. Can you... can you kiss my breasts? And lick them?"

Tywin wrinkled his brows.

 _"Kisses? I didn't speak of that,"_ he thought.

To his own surprise, though, he wasn't angry about the altered request. Instead, he bowed down again and let his lips trail her sensitive skin in some sort of open half-kiss. Gods, her taste matched her scent!

Sansa Stark uttered a petite noise, deep in her throat. It was sexier than all the moans Tywin had heard from the escort women of the last twenty-five years together. Before he could think any further, he started to suckle on her nipple. Above him, he heard various gasps, but he was too focused on what he was tasting to pay it much heed.

After a while, he let go of the nipple and gazed at it. It was dark and swollen. Tywin looked up and realised Sansa Stark's eyes had turned glassy. So he bowed down again and devoured her other nipple. At some point, she started to arch into him. It was so much more than he'd ever expected.

He took his sweet time, no matter that his cock was protesting and demanding some attention.

 

At some point, he retreated and casually asked: "How about your cunt? Does it want to serve as my dinner?"

Sansa Stark gaped at him like a carp.

"What... you mean...? But what about your own lust?"

Tywin didn't understand himself if he was honest. He hadn't taken care of a woman's lust like that since Joanna's death. And even back then, it hadn't been his favourite pastime between the sheets.

He heard himself say: "I'm an old man. I can only come once, but I've booked you for the whole night - and I mean to make the most of it."

Was he getting stupid? Sure enough, he always booked the night when he contacted Madame Chataya, but his tumbles used to be over within five minutes, and that was that.

 

Again, Sansa Stark needed a minute to process the information - unlike a professional, who would just have nodded and shown him a seductive smile.

 _"This is getting too dangerous,"_ Tywin thought and decided to put an end to their outrageous intimities. _"Eddard Stark will roast me alive on a spit if he ever finds out about this, no matter his financial situation."_

The next moment, Lord Stark's daughter had removed her trousers, and Tywin looked at underwear with a slit between the legs that would grant him easy access. His cock started to leak at the sight.

"All right," he rasped. "Sit down on my desk and spread your legs."

 

Her cheeks on fire, Sansa Stark rose obediently and walked - or rather stumbled - over to the piece of furniture in question. Tywin quickly took Joanna's photo and put it into a drawer.

Next, he sat down in his chair and demanded: "Sit down here. Right in front of me. Place your feet onto the armrests."

Sansa Stark was hesitant, but she did as he had asked her.

Tywin's cock twitched and started to hurt when he got a first impression of her red curls and her rosy nether lips. He leaned forwards and inhaled, like he had done before. After this moment, he wasn't sure he wouldn't come without actually fucking the young woman right in front of him.

Sansa Stark swallowed hard.

"Ask me," Tywin demanded. Surely this was the last straw for her?

 

A pause.

Then: "Could you kiss me down there, too, my lord? And... and lick me?"

Her voice was tiny.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asked and looked her in the eyes. Of course, she didn't want to.

Strangely enough, she nodded.

"Yes. Please."

 

Under these circumstances, Tywin laced his arms under her knees and grabbed her hips so as to hold her still. Next, he leaned forwards. His lips started to trace the inside of her thighs.

She was trembling under him, but clearly determined not to flee. All right. No problem there.

With his fingers, he parted the slit in her pants, and gave her rosy cunt a slow, long lick. Sansa Stark winced and uttered a wimper. It was good he was already holding and controlling her.

 _"Looks like this might become a far easier task than I would have thought,"_ Tywin said to himself.

He started to nibble and to lick and to suckle, all the while carefully avoiding the red curls.

Sansa Stark wimpered again and again, and he looked up at her while she was watching him between her legs. Soon, she started to writhe under his lips, and Tywin asked himself how close she was to peaking.

 _"Whoever has had her before can't have taught her properly,"_ he realised. _"She's looking as if she's never experienced such a thing before."_

He felt the sudden, ridiculous urge to imprint himself on this young, still quite inexperienced woman. So Tywin set forth and teased Sansa Stark mercilessly. He tasted a vanilla lubricant... but there was more. There was the aroma that was Sansa herself, and she was truly reacting to him, incredible as it was.

Gods, she was so close, she was glowing under his attentions! Tywin wasn't an expert here, but he did his very best to torture this woman as long as possible. After all, she was torturing him, too. He flicked his tongue against her swollen nub, circled, paused, and she started to sob and to beg him for more.

Since he was an ass, he simply nibbled on the inside of her thighs until he could be sure she'd need a tiny little longer. Only then did he focus on her most sensitive spot again.

 

In the end, she did cry out and exploded so wildly they nearly fell of the desk. And Tywin thought that feeling the ripples of her extasy against his lips was the single sexiest thing he had felt in more than twenty-five years.


	5. Greedy for more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa POV

It took Sansa a moment to regain her senses. Then, she realised, she was still on Lord Lannister's desk... and what this man had just done with her. She wanted to sink into the ground. Oh, she had had climaxed before, thanks to the vibrator, but she had never had such a reaction in someone's presence. And the intensity of the moment - gracious gods!

 

What was confusing was that the Lion of Lannister wasn't looking at her right now, but at his laptop, which he was in the process of starting.

Sansa blinked.

_"Is he disappointed? Isn't he aroused anymore? What does he want?"_

 

A moment later, he cast a side glance at her and said: "Stand up now and turn around. You wanted to talk about Stark Enterprises, didn't you?"

 

Sansa couldn't believe her ears.

 _"But... he hasn't come, has he?"_ she thought. _"He can't possibly want to talk about business in this situation, can he?"_

Insecure as she was, she did the lord's bidding and stood up, even if she was a bit wobbly on her knees. She turned around and saw that Lord Tywin, who was now standing right behind her, had opened various Internet pages about Winterfell.

In his sharp voice, he said: "I need to get some information about your family's business situation first. Only then can I tell you whether there's anything I can do. And even then, I don't know if I want to help. Now bend forward. We'll start to talk about the product lines, then we'll go on to the employees and to the machine equipment and finally to the customers."

 

Sansa's heart hammered away. Was it so easy? Just... why should she bend forward? She could see the webpages well enough.

At that point, Lord Tywin leaned against her backside, and she could feel the enourmous bulge that spoke volumes of his arousal. Sansa gasped.

_"Will he take me from behind while we're talking about Winterfell? But how would it be possible to do both things at a time?"_

She stood there, her legs slightly parted, and started to talk about the products of her father's company. Her voice was breathy, she couldn't help it, and she felt weird.

"Winterfell Enterprises is specialised on wooden products since we've got so much wood up in the North." She pointed at a map on the screen. "Luxurious designer furniture..." There was the sound of an opening zipper right behind her, and Sansa's heartbeat resembled a mad techno rhythm. "..., wood for house building, especially in Braavos since they lack trees there, and wood briquettes. Father is very much in favour of modern, organic heating methods."

Lord Tywin harrumphed behind her, but didn't comment on her statement any further.

 

The same instant, his member touched her down there where her hipster was open. The tip trailed along her folds, and Sansa mewled.

 _"This is so much warmer than the vibrator!"_ she couldn't help but think.

Lord Tywin said in an offhand voice that belied his arousal: "The Braavosi have long started to use concrete for their houses instead of wood. No wonder your father is having problems if he hasn't reacted to this trend. But for now, tell me more about the furniture."

Sansa couldn't believe the surreal situation she was in. Lord Tywin's voice was cold - while further down he was rubbing his private parts against her. His member nuzzled her folds, and the tip teased her opening. Sansa bit her lips and stared at the computer screen.

With trembling hands, she took the mouse and guided them to her father's online shop where one could have a look at the furniture. She started to talk about the details, but didn't really know what she was saying. The more Lord Lannister rubbed himself against her, the more often her voice broke. She was still extremely sensitive after her first climax, and his teasing drove her nuts.

 

It was a miracle how he kept himself in check and the conversation going, even though he was twitching down there. Another unsettling point for Sansa was that he was still fully clothed - except for the very place where they were in direct contact.

He had all the time in the world, by the look of it. Sansa hadn't taken him for a patient man, even less for a good lover - why, she hadn't believed she could feel the tiniest spark for him. Now, however, her body was a furnace, and she realised she needed him down there. Inside her. Gods, she had never known such base desire, but there it was, and stronger and more desperate than anything she had ever felt.

She uttered another mewl.

"That good?" Lord Tywin purred into her ear.

"Gods!" she breathed. "Please! Please I..."

"What do you want me to do, Sansa Stark?" he murmured and sounded like a prowling predator who was about to devour a particularly delicious piece of game.

 

Sansa felt ashamed she was forced to say it - but she couldn't hold back.

"Please take me," she whispered.

The lord's voice was in her ear again.

"Do you want me to slide my cock up that little cunt of yours until it can get no further?"

Sansa closed her eyes. Oh, the shame!

The tip of his member nudged her again, first her nub, then her opening.

"Yes, please. I... I need to feel you."

"Let me see if you're wet enough for me," the voice that would be her downfall growled into her ear.

 

And then, his hand was _there_.

Nimble fingers probed her, and Sansa uttered a sob when he slid a finger inside of her.

"Hmmmmm," Lord Tywin's mouth purred against the nape of her neck, and Sansa thought she was about to die in sheer need.

Her torturer hummed: "Turn around and sit on the desk again. I want you to watch."

 

Sansa's legs didn't really support her anymore when she did as Lord Tywin had asked her. At first, she didn't dare to look... but then, she gazed at the man's erect member, which was protruding proudly from his trousers.

"Still sure you want this?" Lord Lannister asked.

Whatever rests of common sense she possessed - they screamed "stop"! Only the need of her body was stronger. So very much stronger.

"Yes. Oh yes. Please," she whispered.

Lord Tywin looked at her with his intense, green eyes and took up position between her legs. He placed his member against her opening and demanded: "Watch!"

 _"How could I do anything else?"_ Sansa thought.

She realised she wanted this man in a way she could have never imagined a woman to want a man. Usually, Sansa wasn't greedy - but by the look of it, she was learning fast in the presence of the greediest man in Westeros.

"Now!" she demanded - and Lord Lannister slowly pressed himself against her.


	6. The beauty kissed awake. Errrr... metaphorically speaking.

_"What the fuck am I doing?"_ Tywin thought and knew exactly that what he was in the process of carrying out a stupidity of the first range.

Nevertheless, he kept pushing and slid into Sansa Stark, who was watching his swollen cock enter her. Her mouth opened, and her eyes bulged.

Tywin had already noticed with his fingers there wouldn't be a barrier to overcome. Nor was she flinching in pain now, even less crying. And yet, her reactions were of a kind he had half expected it to be different. Oh, and sweet Mother, she was tight! Tight and wet and overwhelmed.

 

_"Fuck, she can't have much experience,"_ Tywin realised. _"Whoever broke her in must have done a miserable job."_

He felt the sudden irrational urge to imprint himself on this young woman. And his cock reacted with utter enthusiasm at the notion.

Deeper and deeper he slid into Sansa Stark until he could go no further. Then, he pulled out again and revealed his shaft, which was glistening from her juices.

"Watch!" he growled again, though it wouldn't have been necessary to do so - Sansa Stark stared at his exposed flesh like a paralysed rabbit would stare at a snake.

 

Tywin sheathed himself again.

_"I need to keep control,"_ he told himself. _"Otherwise, it'll end to soon."_

And he certainly wanted to fuck this young woman as thoroughly as he could. With other escort women, it used to be a matter of a few wild thrusts. In this case, things were oh so different.

 

On and on he moved in and out, careful to keep things slow. Nothing had ever been more difficult. The fact that he hadn't had a woman since his last nameday didn't help at all; his need was acute.

Sansa Stark gasped and uttered some petite noises in her throat. Further down, there were some wet sounds.

After a few minutes, Tywin stayed changed the method: he stayed buried inside the woman he had claimed and rather ground himself against her so as to get as deep into her as possible.

In answer to that, Sansa Stark pressed her face against his collarbone, which was all too unsettling: until then, they had not touched any more than absolutely necessary. Tywin wasn't used to touching, especially not touching a woman in a... gentle way.

 

_"_ That good?" he panted down into auburn tresses and wanted, _NEEDED_ a "yes" from her - an honest "yes", not the fake appreciation of a whore.

"Yes," Sansa Stark gasped.

She lifted her face towards his, looked at him with glassy eyes and dark red, half open lips... and before Tywin could react any further, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Pressed down his face. Kissed him square on his mouth.

Nobody had kissed him in more than twenty-five years.

At once, a hot wave licked up Tywin's spine, he groaned, closed his eyes, and a second wave shot from his balls through his cock, and deep into Sansa Stark.

For a moment, Tywin was close to losing consciousness. Only with a great effort did he manage to keep standing, but he slid out, already softening. And now it was his face that was pressed against a female upper torso, not the other way round. Somehow, his cheeks were wet, and Tywin didn't really understand what was happening to him.


	7. Getting wet

_"What on earth...? That was it? Already? Sweet Mother, oh sweet Mother!"_ Sansa thought and didn't know what to do. How to react.

A deep wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. Her lady parts were protesting against the interruption of the lovemaking process, and she was still as aroused as she was ashamed, and utterly confused besides.

_"Gods, what have I been doing here!? And why is he...? Such a reaction was in none of Robb's porns! Such things... they don't normally happen to an escort woman, do they?"_

 

Lacking any other options, Sansa closed her eyes, remained still and waited for the lord to calm down.

Suddenly, he tore away from her - so quickly she didn't get more than the most fleeting impression of his face... it was red, and there was a thunderstorm in his eyes. Lord Lannister pivoted around, made for the door to the bathroom with long strides, wrenched said door open without another word and...

_WHAM!_

Lord Tywin threw the door shut so forcefully that the sound reverberated like an explosion. Worse than that, the little glass window in the door cracked.

 

Sansa started, and her fingers flew to her lips.

_"What's going on here? Ist he angry? He must be angry. But why? What have I done wrong?"_

For two or three minutes, she was at a loss and simply continued to sit on the desk. Half naked.

Then, she heard the whooshing sound of a shower. Sansa blinked.

 _"Is he cleaning himself from me?"_ she thought, realised there was still his sticky, drying seed between her legs, and she flushed bright red.

_"I need a shower myself. But I can't go in there, can I? Only... if I leave now, everything is lost. He'll never help my father."_

This turned out to be the decisive point. Slowly, Sansa rose. Her steps were hesitant and a bit wobbly, but she finally reached the bathroom door, opened it, and entered.

 

She bit her lip when she saw Lord Lannister. Until the end of their tumble, he had remained almost fully dressed, but now, it had changed. He was naked under the shower, facing away from her and supporting himself against the luxurious marble tiles of the wall. That way, Sansa got an excellent view of his back, his slender form, his long legs covered with wet, golden-grey curly hair... and his buttocks. He had already lathered himself, and white foam was dripping off his body.

Involuntarily, Sansa licked her lips. One could see at once that the man who had engaged her wasn't young; his skin was a bit softer, and there were some wrinkles here and there - but there were still muscles, too, and the lord was clearly in good shape. Likely in a better shape than many other men his age - and even many younger men. Before their meeting, Sansa had expected to be disgusted by his physique, but now, she realised she didn't feel that way at all. Which didn't mean she wasn't intimidated - because she certainly was.

 

"What are you doing in here?" Lord Lannister snapped without turning around.

Sansa winced.

"You left me, and... what have I done wrong?"

The man under the shower hissed.

"How can a professional woman be so clueless? I told you I wanted to fuck you all night, and you made sure I'd come after a few minutes, knowing I can't get hard a second time at my age."

 

Sansa gaped. Oh.

Her mind raced.

Then, she said: "I'm sorry, I didn't do it on purpose... but I'm still at your service. If there's anything I can still do for you... I mean... even if you can't... I mean... surely you can still feel some enjoyment, even if you can't..."

 _"Gods, I'm sounding like a deranged oaf,"_   Sansa thought.

 

Finally, Lord Lannister turned around. He glared daggers at her with his cold, green-golden eyes.

Sansa tried not to ogle his naked body, not to look at his chest her and his soft member. She licked her lips.

After a long pause, Lord Tywin huffed: "Well? What are you waiting for? Out off your ridiculous would-be underwear and come here and show me what you can allegedly do for me!"

 

Sansa wondered if her heartbeat would ever normalise again. With trembling fingers, she put off what little clothes she was still wearing. Next, she stepped closer. The warm stream from the shower hit her skin, and Lord Tywin was still staring at her, daring her to remain inactive.

 _"WhatcanIdowhatcanIdowhatcanIdo?"_ she thought frantically.

She tried to remember what she had learned while watching Robb's porn videos. One possibility struck her mind, only she wasn't sure if she could go through with it in the lord's... soft state.

 _"I guess I must try my best and repay him..."_ she thought and knelt in front of Lord Tywin on hard, slate floor tiles.

His eyes widened a fraction, and he arched an eyebrow - but didn't say anything.

Sansa's cheeks and ears felt as if they were on fire, and this had nothing to do with the warm water she was exposed to. She had never seen a male member from close up.

 _"This has been past the point of no return,"_ she told herself, bowed her head, moved forward, and tried to take him into her mouth - carefully so as not to bite him.

 

The next instant, she was sitting back, retching and spluttering.

"The FUCK, woman! What do you think you're doing?" Lord Lannister snarled at her.

Sansa coughed out: "You're tasting of soap. I'm sorry."

The man in front of her snorted.

"You're the most incompetent whore I've ever come across."

 

Tears shot into Sansa's eyes.

Before she knew what she was saying, she blubbered: "How could I be competent if you're my first lover?"

The next moment, she pressed her hands onto her mouth, but it was too late.

The water splashed around them while they were silent for what felt like aeons to Sansa.

"Am I?" Lord Tywin asked in a milder voice.

Sansa nodded and didn't dare look up.

"And how, my lady, is it possible you didn't feel any pain back in my solar?"

Sansa balled her fists.

"I trained myself beforehand. Anything else you want to know?"

 

A few seconds later, strong hands pulled her up.

"There," Lord Lannister said. "Now. If you could regain your composure, I could continue to teach you a few things about fucking. Our first lesson on the desk wasn't comprehensive."

Sansa's head snapped up, and she looked into the lord's eyes. They were intense.

"Oh," she muttered. "I -"

"Turn around, my lady."

 

At once, Sansa's lady parts started to quiver, and she was quite sure she wasn't only wet from the water now. Just... what was going on now? How was it possible Lord Lannister's mood seemed to change all of a sudden?

Slowly, Sansa turned her back on the man. She was wondering what he was up to now. He was directly behind her. And then he leaned himself against her backside. Sansa's breath hitched in her throat.

His hands reached around her, and he took something into his hands. It was a massaging glove with tiny little nubs at the palm.

"Didn't think I'd ever use this item," Lord Tywin breathed into her ear from behind. "My sister's nameday present from last year."

 

Sansa wanted to say something, but her mind went blank, and her voice faltered.

Instead, the lord took a bar of soap with his left hand and lathered her belly... and her breasts. Next, he spread the foam with his hand. Cupped her breasts.

Sansa gasped.

It only encouraged Lord Lannister even more. He rubbed himself against her buttocks in the most outrageous way; he started to nibble on the nape of her nack, his fingers teased her nipples - and his gloved hand crept southwards.

 

Minutes later, Sansa was writhing and moaning and in utter need of a second release.

"You're right," Lord Tywin growled lowly. "We still have got the rest of the night. Looks like you're dripping now - and not only from the droplets above. I'd say you're hotter than the water now."

Sansa couldn't answer properly.

"Please," she whispered. "Please."

 

Another few minutes later, and she was sobbing in despair. Then, Lord Lannister removed his hand and turned her around. Sansa protested - until he bowed down and started to suckle on her nipples. At the same time, his hands cupped her buttocks and pressed her against his member, which was soft, yes, but still substancial enough.

"Ah!" Sansa exclaimed, again and again. But it was not enough for her to come. This was torture!

 

To make things worse, Lord Tywin suddenly stopped.

"And now," he declared, "I want to have you in my bed."


	8. Between the sheets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to type this chapter twice, and twice what I had written got lost, so I was discouraged for a while. Hopefully, things will work out this time...

_"WHAT am I saying!?"_ Tywin snarled at himself. He had not had a woman in his own bed since -

At once, he pushed the thought aside and focused on the woman in front of him. One of Tywin's favourite pastimes was to make others feel desperate - and Sansa Stark was already in great need as she was, but in bed, he could get her further than either of them would have anticipated before the night had started. Sansa Stark's despair would have a more delectable quality than, say, calling an employee to the carpet at work, of that Tywin was suddenly convinced.

 _"Perhaps it's good I've already come after all,"_ he concluded. _"This way, I can control her lust more easily."_

 

So Tywin took a towel and rubbed them both dry. In the process, he made sure to touch Sansa Stark in various alluring ways. Her little gasps told him he was eliciting the desired effect.

 

When he lead her down the corridor to his bedroom, he even had to support her, because her knees kept buckling from under her. Oooh, the upcoming chapter in the Book of Lions would be so good - Tywin swore to himself he'd see to that.

Sansa Stark's reaction to Tywin's custom-made king-sized octagonal gilded bed was one of confused surprise; she clearly hadn't seen such manifestations of individual grandeur yet. Which was no wonder, given her drab parents.

 

"Come here," Tywin purred, and together, they landed on the bed.

By then, he assumed that Sansa had calmed down to an extent that she wouldn't climax at the first touch, but he wanted to make sure and to teach her something new besides.

So he said: "I won't taste of soap down there now. And I'm not in a state to make you choke. Give it a second try then. But be careful with your teeth."

Sansa looked from his face to his cock to his face to his cock, and her already flushed cheeks became even redder. Good.

"Yes, my lord," she whispered and stooped over him.

 

A moment later, her timid kiss revealed just how clueless she was, but Tywin didn't mind... as long as she didn't bite him. The clumsy caresses that followed were interspersed with growing curiosity. And alacrity. Sansa kissed every spot she could reach.

"Lick!" Tywin growled.

Ah moment later, a shy tongue traced his length - and to Tywin's utter surprise, this length was growing! He hadn't believed he could get hard a second time, but Sansa's uncoordinated if gentle care taught him otherwise.

 _"This is getting better and better,"_ Tywin thought and hadn't felt so close to a smug grin in ages.

 

The question was now what to do with his erection... and how to preserve it. At his age, experience overruled energy - even if he was still an energetic man in general. Anyway, Tywin rather wanted to be safe than sorry and to get the most out of this episode.

Then, he remembered a salesman from www.street-of-silk.kl, who had once had a meeting with Tywin and who had offered him his newest sex toys - hoping for generous financial support. At the end of the meeting, the man had dashed out of the conference room in tears... and had forgotten his suitcase with toys. Tywin had kept them, but had never used them. Perhaps now was the time...

 

"Suckle!" Tywin urged Sansa on, and while her rosy lips and tongue were hesitantly wrapping around this new task - in the truest sense of the word - Tywin reached into a drawer of his bedside table. His mind was becoming a bit fuzzy because of what was going on further down. Even so, he soon produced the item he had had in mind. It was a set of adjustable, fluted cock rings - one for the balls and one for the tip. The texture was designed to arouse a woman even further. And the rings were supposed to keep him hard and to hold up the male orgasm. Tywin wasn't sure if it would work, but he was willing to give it a try.

 

"Let go!" he told Sansa, who sat back on her haunches with question marks in her eyes.

By now, his shaft was rigid enough, and Tywin slipped on the rings. They didn't feel exactly comfortable, but he could live with that. His personal plan wasn't to seek comfort in this context.

"Now lie back and let's see what we can do," Tywin said.

Sansa Stark did as she was told, her eyes still on the sex toy she had probably never seen before... or even heard of.

Tywin let his hands roam her naked body, her silky skin, her rosy nipples. She was panting under him. His face was righted above hers, and he could feel her hot, laboured breathing. He placed himself between her legs and rubbed against her entrance.

Sansa Stark mewled, and a hot wave licked up Tywin's spine. He bowed down, pressed his lips onto hers, invaded her mouth with his tongue, ravaged her, showed her what he was about to do further down, and inhaled her lustful sounds. And those sounds were genuine - in contrast to what he'd heard from other women he'd ordered.

 

Tywin continued to rub himself against the wonderful cunt that was so obviously yearning for him. Gods, was Sansa Stark wet!

That was the moment  when he gave in and slid into her. It earned him a satisfactory, desperate sob. Tywin had never been a slow or gentle lover, and patience wasn't his forte - but he could be patient whenever he expected the outcome to be worthwhile. And since he had already come, it was comparably easy for him to keep himself in check this time. At an almost idle pace, he started to move in and out and enjoyed each single thrust. From time to time, he stopped pulling out and rather ground himself into Sansa even deeper.

There were wet little sounds with each movement.

"Please!" Sansa Stark begged him for release at first, but Tywin wasn't one to grant mercy. After a while, Sansa was beyond talking and simply writhed under him to get the friction she needed. But Tywin pinned her down and controlled the procedure. Again, the cock rings rather hampered his lust, but in a way he welcomed. On and on he went; the woman under him was crying in sheer need, and the muscles of her thighs were trembling from penned-up lust.

 

In the end, Tywin lost control, and his thrusts became more erratic. With a hasty movement, he opened the rings. Then, he pumped into Sansa Stark as hard and as fast as he could. He felt a gigantic climax slam into her, and the tremors of her body were so intense that Tywin would have been grateful for the size of the bed that prevented any falling out... had he not been so occupied with his own peak. He plowed into Sansa Stark, again and again, relishing the twitiching cunt around his cock - and then, he snarled in abject relief.

He stilled, somehow managed to plunge down at the side of the woman who had given him the orgasm of decades, and knew no more.


	9. The morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As delicious as the smut itself may be... what now?

Tywin blinked heavily when he woke up again. Why was daylight filtering in through the window panes? He never woke up after sunrise. And why was he feeling so heavy and warm and relaxed? And sore at his cock?

Tywin tensed. He'd be late for work! Oh fuck!

The next moment, he came to understand the weird situation he was in: there was a naked young lady named Sansa Stark sleeping happily at his side and with her head on his shoulder. She was glowing and smiling in her sleep. In response to his sudden tension, she rubbed her nose against the crook of his neck, mumbled something unintelligible, and pressed herself even closer.

 

Memories of the previous night flooded Tywin's head. His eyes widened, and he stared at the young woman tucked away in his arms. She perfectly looked as if she belonged where she was.

_"She's mine,"_ Tywin thought.

The next moment, he blinked again. Technically speaking, Sansa Stark was anything but "his". But it was what some evil god had engraved in his core while he had been asleep. "SHE'S MINE."

It was the natural result of his Lannister greediness, and Tywin knew he had imprinted himself on Sansa Stark in a lasting way. But it still didn't mean he could simply keep her like his forefathers had kept lions for their private amusement. By all social and other standards, Sansa Stark wasn't and couldn't be "his".

_"Ah, in that case, I've got to change the variables,"_ Tywin concluded.

He turned to tactics he used at work and opted for straightforward blackmailing. Eddard Stark needed help - and in more than one way: money, connections, mental flexibility, new business concepts... Tywin resolved to grant the man long-term support. In exchange for a long-term erotic arrangement with Sansa. Of course, the latter point had to remain a secret. Perhaps even the former point. Eddard Stark was a proud man and would probably not accept any help from Tywin. So he and Sansa would have to plan things carefully.

He didn't even consider Sansa denying him what he wanted. Not after the ends she'd already gone to to help her family. Besides, there would be little reason for complaint. After all, she'd get regular, decent sex.

 

Tywin nodded and slowly detached himself from Sansa's warm body. She mumbled a sleepy complaint, but there was no helping it: Tywin had to contact Kevan. His poor brother was likely already organising an elite troop to save Tywin from whatever danger was keeping him off his mobile and away from work.

_"Fuck! The battery is empty!"_ Tywin realised once he spotted his cell phone.

Cursing under his breath, he rummaged in the drawer of his bedside table for a charging cable.

_"Whip... glow-in-the-dark dildo... Bleh, I should have sent that salesman running faster! Nipple tassels... Where the fuck - oh there it is."_

 

Tywin grabbed the cable and connected the phone and the socket. A green battery flashed up on the display, and Tywin started the phone.

First, he checked on his mails. On his official account, he had got some 250 during the night, a bit more than usual, the last five ones coming from fat Robert Baratheon, and with high-priority exclamation marks. Tywin stifled a shudder and left the account. No need to check his private mails - he only got advertisement there.

So Tywin switched to his messenger. The same instant, the display turned red with Kevan'S: "TY, WHERE ARE U?!! --- WHAT R U DOING!?!?" There were various messages of the sort, and Tywin sighed inwardly - until his eye caught the last message: "FUCK, IT'S ON THE NEWS!!! PAPARAZZI ALARM!! SWITCH ON TV!!! DON'T LEAVE!!! I REPEAT: DO NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE. CASTLE. STAY INSIDE!!!!"

Suddenly, Tywin's heartbeat accelerated, and he was having the worst premonitions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whohoo. So here it is. Shit is coming. Any idea as to what will happen next? How our lovebirds... fuckbirds... whatever... will react?


	10. KiLaMoCha

Just at that moment, the display of the mobile showed him Cersei was trying to call him. Tywin swore under his breath; he wasn't ready for a talk with his daughter. Especially not before he had brought himself up to date with the most recent developments.

  
Quickly, he strode to the PC in his solar and switched on "Kings Landing Morning Channel", or KiLaMoCha. While he despised yellow press media formats he had subscribed to this fancy online morning television programme nevertheless. Oh, the rabble who watched the show wasn't relevant, but it was helpful to know which way it was programmed by the media every day. Economical success could depend on this knowledge.

  
_Brrrrr!_ Tywin's mobile buzzed and told him Joffrey was now trying to contact him. When the sound ended, it started once again - this time with Tyrion's name was on the display. Tywin hissed.

  
The next second, his breathing froze.

  
KiLaMoCha had started on the computer screen. The first thing Tywin saw was a bird's view video from a helicopter above Casterly Rock. To make things worse, Tywin could hear the rotor sounds of a helicopter outside, now, that he was thinking of it.

  
Asha Greyjoy, the daring journalist of the morning channel, who always went where the core of a big hullabaloo was, shouted into the camera above the helicopter noises.

  
"And here we are again from the focal point of the West: Casterly Rock, the ancient Lannister seat. As you can see, flocks of journalists have gathered at the entrance of the castle. So far, there has been no relevant movement in the building, but I daresay it can't be long now. And of course we're all eager to know: when will the Lannister Patriarch, Lord Tywin, show up? And when Miss Sansa Stark? What will they have to say?"

  
There were probably few people who were less confident and less bold than Tywin... but now, he found a cold sweat breaking on his forehead.

  
"Oh fuck!" he whispered.

  
Those two words comprised so much more. The people knew about Sansa having stayed at his castle at night. Asha Greyjoy's words implied everyone expected a juicy story. And this juicy story was poison for his reputation. For his business.

  
Moreover, there was the Stark family that had to be taken into consideration. Uuuuh. Not good. At all.

  
Tywin rubbed his face hectically.

  
Meanwhile, Asha Greyjoy went on: "We're now switching back to Loras at the studio. Loras, are you there?"

  
The handsome, effeminate presenter of the show answered, smiling: "Yesss! Aaaand here we are again, back at the studio in in King's Landing. So let me reiterate what we've found out about this most remarkable incident so far: According to private sources, young, hitherto seemingly respectable Miss Sansa Stark, daughter of Lord Eddard Stark from Stark Enterprises, has taken up work as an escort woman. And as KiLaMoCha has found out, Miss Sansa Stark has been playing playing the wolf cub - pardon,  the BUNNY - for old warhorse Tywin Lannister last night. Our source has provided us with a most outrageous contract about the amorous tête-a-tête."

  
A picture of the contract flashed up on the screen - with highlighted passages about the most intimate aspects. Tywin's hands started to tremble.

  
In the studio, Loras Tyrell went on: "After these shocking news, we must ask our legal expert, Mr Varys: 'What do you have to say to these occurrences?'"

  
Tywin could see fat Mr. Varys smile into the camera and wanted to bash in his face.

  
"Ah, Loras, you see - escort services as such are perfectly legal, and Miss Stark has recently reached adulthood. But now we have to ask ourselves: it is known that Miss Stark used to date Joffrey Baratheon - Mr. Lannister's grandson - some years ago. When she was still clearly underage. So when did the sexual contact between this young woman and this elderly man, who could be her grandfather, actually start? There's no proof, and naturally, these two are innocent until proven otherwise... but it all does have a foul smell to it, doesn't it?"

  
Tywin's fists balled, and bile rose in his throat. He'd roast these scandalmongers alive, that was what he'd do!

  
On screen, Loras Tyrell nodded avidly and asked into the camera: "Do we have any reactions from anyone yet? The Lannister or Baratheon family?"

  
Asha Greyjoy appeared in a smaller window next to Loras.

  
"Not yet. Still waiting for someone to show up."

  
Loras nodded and went on: "Then let's switch on to Steffon Frey in the North. Steffon. Any reactions from House Stark yet?"

  
The window with Asha Greyjoy disappeared and gave way to another one with a weasel-faced man. Steffon Frey nodded.

  
"Good morning from the North, Ladies and Gentlemen. Before I give you the latest news, let me remind you of the fact that Stark Enterprises has been struggling with serious problems of late, and it is rumoured that Lord Stark's business is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. Now. Lord Eddard Stark has just given a short statement to our partner, Channel Winterfell. Let's see what he had to say."

  
A grey-faced Lord Eddard appeared on the screen. He had to grind out each single word.

  
"The Starks know nothing of a disgusting arrangement between Lord Lannister and my daughter. I don't know who has started this intrigue to harm House Stark, but I'll find the scoundrel and demand accountability."

  
The man from Channel Winterfell cocked his head.

  
He asked Lord Stark: "Lord Stark, we have proof that Miss Sansa is in Lannisport at the moment. The landlady of a hotel has already testified to your daughter having booked a room... and to not having returned at night. So what will happen if the rumours about your daughter turn out to be true?"

  
Lord Stark breathed heavily.

  
"I'm sure there must be an unproblematic explanation about my daughter's whereabouts. Sansa would never betray our family in such an insufferable way."

  
Steffon Frey wasn't content and asked again: "But what if there's no other explanation?"

  
Lord Stark's jaws worked.

  
Then, he growled: "I will not accept a traitor in my family. Anyone who harms House Stark isn't a Stark him- or herself."

  
The Frey man spoke into the microphone: "Now these are clear words. Thanks for the interview, Lord Stark. And that's it from the North. Winter is Coming."

  
A smiling Loras Tyrell appeared on the screen again.

  
That was the very moment when Lord Tywin switched off KiLaMocha and hurled the PC mouse against the solar wall until it shattered into various plastic pieces.

  
"Fuck," Tywin croaked. "Fuck."


	11. Impromptu measures

_"What a mess,"_   Tywin thought and knew at the same time what an understatement the notion was. _"This changes everything,"_ he knew.

Of course, he had to think of his enterprise first and foremost. Next, he mused Lord Stark's statement. Considering the implications, the man's attitude fitted Tywin's intention to keep Sansa as his. Hmmm...

Tywin decided what he would have to do. It was a daunting decision, and a lesser man than him would have avoided it. The sheer idea made his skin crawl, because it went against everything he had ever planned. But extreme situations demanded extreme reactions, and he didn't really see any alternative. The problem was now to get Sansa where Tywin wanted to have her.

 _"She's a young woman and too easy to impress. She has to rely on my wisdom and my guidance in this case,"_ he thought and sought out her little handbag, which she had dropped in the solar on the previous evening.

In it, he found a purse, a hotel key, make-up, perfume, lubrication oil, and a smartphone with a cover that showed a wolf and imitation gems. Tywin rolled his eyes at the design, but quickly focused on something else. He opened the lid of the phone and exposed the battery. He removed the battery for a moment. Next, he grabbed across his desk and opened a box with precious, high quality cigars from the Summer Isles. Tywin wasn't a regular smoker, but there were rare texceptions when he did enjoy a luxurious cigar. This particular post-orgasmic situation actually required some tobacco consumption. Tywin lighted one cigar and waited until he had gathered a certain quantity of ash. He added some lubrication oil and mixed it with the ash. And then, he smeared a small quantity of the paste onto the contacts of the mobile. Next, he inserted the battery and closed Sansa's smartphone again. He tried to start the mobile. It was dead. Tywin smiled. A young woman without her cell phone was as helpless as a new-born babe. Sansa would have to rely on him. His information. His interpretations. His ideas.

 _"Once the smoke of the shooting has disappeared, I'll also roast some arses,"_ Tywin resolved. _"The landlady of the hotel who informed the journalists of Sansa's stay in King's Landing, for example. Madame Chataya will hear a version of the "Rains of Castamere". And the bastard who told the news people about the contract will wish he'd never been born."_

 

However, Tywin would cross those bridges when he got to them. For now, he had to think of the most pressing measures.

Tywin took his own mobile, which had loaded up sufficiently in the meantime, ignored all other family conatcts, and texted Kevan.

_"The news people are badly informed, that's all I can say. As you can imagine, I'll have to sort out some things now. Kevan, you take over the day-to-day business until further notice. And make sure my private jet is ready for a short-term trip to Qarth. And book a suite at the Qarth Excelsior."_

When this was done, Tywin called for his private servant. It was somewhat embarrassing to meet the man in no more than the underpants Tywin had quickly grabbed on his way to the solar, but the servant was used to anything; besides, it wasn't as if the man could still leak a secret anymore.

"Padraig, have the workman van with the painter logo ready. You know: the one with the opaque doors at the back."

The servant nodded and left at once to carry out his task.

And Tywin knew that now he had to face the most difficult task: to tell Sansa Stark that her life had shattered into a million pieces. His everyday bastard self should have enjoyed this prospect, but this was not the way Tywin felt. Something had changed overnight - and Tywin didn't like this change one whit.

He walked back to his bedroom, saw sleeping, naked Sansa in his bed, and cursed inwardly for the umpteenth time that morning. Then, he slipped between the blankets in no more than his pants.

Sansa's skin was as warm as Tywin remembered it, and her instincts told her to snuggle up against him at once. She purred into his ear.

 _"Like a feline,"_ Tywin thought. _"I'll make sure she'll purr a lot more... once this is all over."_

Aloud, he growled: "Sansa."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is a shorty... didn't get any further tonight.


	12. Like an avalanche

Sansa felt warm and heavy and relaxed. Happy. Peaceful. Then, she heard her name, and she realised her core was a bit sore. Wrinkling her brow, she opened her eyes with fluttering lids. She looked up into green eyes flecked with gold. Memories hit her like a ram.

Sansa uttered the tiniest gasp and felt blood heat up her cheeks. Morning light was coming in through a window. Quickly, she propped up herself on her arms.

"I've slept here?" she asked.

At the same time, she realised that Lord Tywin Lannister was still in bed with her... and naked, apart from some pants.

 _"This is not the way, it should be between an escort woman and a customer, right?"_ she asked herself.

No wonder Lord Tywin was looking at her with such a grave stare.

 

"Yes, you've slept here, my lady - and I'm wondering if it wasn't a good thing you didn't return to your hotel room last night."

Sansa blinked. There was something about Lord Tywin's voice she didn't like, and a cold shiver ran down her spine.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

The man who had... taken her the previous night sighed. Sansa liked this sound even less, because Lord Tywin didn't strike her as someone who'd sigh a lot.

He said, "We should break our fast after this night. I'd wager you must be hungry. And then, we must talk."

 

Sansa's heart palpitaded.

She should have breakfast with this man? It was clearly going beyond their arrangement, wasn't it? Besides, it was difficult to imagine a breakfast with him. Did he want to talk about her father's business then?

At the same time, there was something Sansa could wholeheartedly agree to: she was so hungry she could eat a boar.

 

In the meantime, Lord Tywin was producing two gold-coloured dressing gowns emblazoned with red lions from a wardrobe. He held out one to her. Sansa took it and didn't care that the cut was a masculine one.

Aloud, she said, "I'm grateful for your offer. I'm hungry indeed."

"A normal reaction to last night's activities. Come here."

 

Flushing scarlet, Sansa followed Lord Tywin out of his bedroom and down the corridor she had already seen. Lord Tywin was barefoot under the dressing gown, just like herself. She couldn't help the feeling, but there was something erotic about seeing this man barefoot, age notwithstanding. He was like a predator ambling through his district.

They didn't come across any servants, but those had clearly been there before their lord's awakening: there was food prepared for them in the kitchen they entered. Lord Tywin didn't have a big dining table there, just a counter with two chrome bar stools. The kitchen had an elegant cream colour with smooth, modern fronts. No embellishments. The obvious quality of the materials spoke for itself and contrasted in a fascinating way with the massive castle walls.

 

Lord Tywin lifted the hood of a food warmer. There were rashers of crisp bacon, poached eggs and beans on toast on offer.

The Lord of Lannister looked at the assembled breakfast and uttered a nondescript sound. Next, he switched on an espresso machine.

Wanting to say something, Sansa uttered, "This machine would be any barista's dream. No pads or capsules."

Lord Tywin lifted a brow.

"Of course not. I don't want to drink coloured water."

Sansa blushed and felt stupid.

They ate in silence. There was a helicopter to be heard somewhere outside, and Sansa briefly wondered whether there had been a bad accident in Lannisport.

Then, her mind returned to the food. At home, Sansa would have chosen something different for breakfast, toast and lemon marmelade likely, but the food here tasted delicious. Since she'd been invited, she ate with a healthy appetite.

 

When they finished their meal, Lord Tywin said, "Off to my solar now. We need to discuss serious things. You'll be glad you've eaten now - I fear you won't have much of an appetite for a while."

Sansa's heart dropped into her non-existent shoes.

 _"He won't help father,"_ she thought. _"I should have known it. It was all for naught."_

She spoke up and said so to Lord Tywin, not caring about his possible destructive anger anymore.

 

The elderly man looked at her and breathed in and out.

He answered in a steely voice, "What I have to tell you is far beyond me being my usual arsehole self."

Sansa went cold to the bone. She felt sick and wasn't sure whether she'd be able to keep her breakfast inside.

 

With wobbly knees, she followed Lord Tywin to his solar and awaited an imminent execution.

Yet, Lord Tywin simply sat down behind his desk and rubbed his face. It took him a moment until he started to speak.

And then he uttered some garbled balderdash that sent Sansa's head spinning. She heard words like "traitor", "television" and "papparazzi", but it was all a blur, and Sansa couldn't make heads or tails of it. Her mind refused to understand.

"Lady Sansa, I've seen your father on television - not knowing the motives behind your actions he has basically... eradicated you from your family."

 

Sansa's lips moved as if to form words, but no sound escaped her lips. Then, she shook her head. Didn't want to understand these words. Even less to believe them.

At that point, Lord Tywin switched on the screen, his face grey and his jaws working. Sansa watched. And kept shaking her head. The news rolled over her, weighed her down and crushed the air from her lungs. She was dieing, wasn't she? Or was this already the seventh hell?

 

"I need to talk to father," she finally uttered and looked about herself. She found her mobile where she had left it the other day and switched it on. Or rather she tried to do so. No reaction.

"The battery... it's low," she stammered.

"I've got a USB-cable," Lord Tywin offered.

Sansa thanked him. Her shock multiplied when the connection didn't alter the result: her mobile was dead.

 

"Do you have father's phone number?" Sansa asked Lord Tywin. "You know all the world."

The Lord of Lannister looked at her, then went through the contacts on his own mobile.

"I've only got a fifteen-year-old contact number. It's not as if we've interacted lately. But... let's give it a try."

The number wasn't valid anymore. Sansa felt more and more nauseous. Blood was whooshing in her ears.

"The impressum on father's website! The official enterprise number!" Sansa called out in relief.

They quickly found and dialled the number. The line was busy.

"Under these conditions, we won't get through," Lord Tywin pointed out. "Winterfell will be swarming like a nest of angry hornets. Everyone is trying to call there now."

Sansa uttered a single whine.

 

Then, a new idea popped up in her mind.

"Robert Baratheon! Your son-in-law! He's father's friend. He'll have his private number."

Lord Tywin uttered a snort and dialled the number. No reaction at the other end.

The lord looked at her and explained: "After a stupor in the evening, Robert won't be awake until three p.m. And then, his hangover may still keep him from looking at his mobile."

 

Sansa's hands and body were trembling. Tears started to spill down her cheeks.

In this situation, Lord Tywin spoke: "This development has got the worst repercussions, for yourself and for your father's enterprise. For my own business as well. I don't want to know the salti we'll have at the stockmarket now. Rich and influential as I am - this can mean my downfall, too. The people are already speculating about an underage relationship - and while it's got no foundation whatsoever, the mere rumour could be enough to bring about a lasting damage."

Sansa sank to her knees, a trembling heap. Her mind was spinning, and she couldn't think clearly anymore.

Meanwhile, Lord Tywin continued to talk, "There is only one way to minimise the catastrophe, Lady Sansa. One way that could save our reputations and businesses."

Sansa looked at the man behind the desk.

The Lord of Lannister leaned forward and stared at her.

He said, "We've got to marry."


	13. A tyrant's guidance

Tywin prided himself with having remembered that Robert owned two mobiles, but rarely ever used the second one - so Tywin had called that number to make sure Sansa Stark wouldn't get into contact with her father. From what Tywin had seen on TV, Eddard Stark had already made up his mind, had already judged and sentenced his daughter. Nothing she could have told him would have had an effect on the man. Tywin remembered him from more than a decade ago and knew how inflexible the man's mindset was. There was only light and darkness for Eddard Stark and nothing in between. So a telephone call between him and Sansa wouldn't have helped at all. Besides, Tywin didn't want to get into contact with foolish Robert Baratheon in the first place.

 

The Lord of Lannister looked at the woman in front of him. The shock was still too deep, so she wasn't crying. All the better. He couldn't stand whining or wailing people.

 

Just at that moment, Sansa Stark spoke up, her eyes still unnaturally wide.

"Marry? But... but I don't want to marry you."

OUCH.

Tywin's mood dropped below freezing point level.

"My lady, I've been a widower for a quarter of a century now. Have an intelligent guess why this is so. I'll give you a hint: it's not because upper-class women would have died out."

 

Sansa Stark looked at him with her blue eyes. One could tell that coherent thinking was still beyond her.

Not being a patient man, Tywin uttered a growl.

Then, he said in a tone as if he meant to speak to a child, "I don't want to marry. You don't want to marry. But if we don't marry, both our enterprises will crash. Respectability is the lubricant in our families' trade. We cannot have a scandal on this scale. A marriage is our only ticket back into the realm of respectability. Do you want to be responsible for the implosion of two big companies, my lady? This is not only about your father and not even about me. Your father and I, we've got thousands of employees. And a crisis at the stockmarket could well entail a worldwide financial crisis. Is that what you want?"

 

Sansa Stark remained silent and started to rock back and forth. Not a good sign. It wouldn't do if the shock crushed her.

So Tywin rose from his seat and walked around the desk.

"My lady," he said. "It's not as if we were still in the Middle Ages. We can marry - with a decent marriage contract, of course. And in one or two years, when the scandal has died down, we can have a quiet divorce."

Of course, a divorce was the last thing Tywin would allow. He used to keep what was his. But Sansa Stark seemed to need this concession right now. An illusion of flexibility.

 

Her lips moved as if to test some words.

Then, she said: "What about my plans for the future? I'm at university. I've just grown up. What about my family? My father will detest it all."

For a second, Tywin felt the need to drum some sense into her, but he knew it would only backfire. Besides... he had never hit his first wife, and he wouldn't start to do so with his second one. Fuck. Sansa Stark. HIS wife. Unbelievable.

He answered: "If you want to go on studying, we can find you a new university. Mustn't have to be a public one. With my money, I can also pay the fees for a private university. A better one."

What he didn't say was that he intended to find her a univerity with online courses so she wouldn't have to leave his side so often.

Tywin went on: "You can also accompany me on my national and international tours. That way, you can see something of the world. Considering your family - the damage has already been done. You've heard your father. To my mind, things cannot get any worse than they already are. There is no chance for a reconciliation right now. I'd rather say that you should give your relatives some time. They must process the shock, just like you. Even like me. But a respectable marriage will help them to cope with it all much better. Tell me: what would you like less if you were a father? A daughter who's married to the richest and most influential old buck in Westeros? Or a daughter who has just served the man as an irrelevant whore for a single night?"

 

Sansa Stark cast down her eyes and looked to the floor. As if there was some wisdom to be found in the intricate pattern of the carpet. Finally, her tears started to stream down her cheeks.

"In that case, I guess I have to marry you," she whispered in a papery voice.

"Just my words," Tywin said and felt anger well up inside of him because of her distress.

"Now," he went on. "Looks like we have to sneak out in secret. I will not allow the paparrazzi to spill any more filth by getting pictures of us leaving the Rock. But rest assured, we won't face any problems. I've got a private elevator down to the base of the Rock. Normally only servants and delivery men use it. I've got a garage for non-exclusive cars down there. We can take a painter's van with blackened windows. There's alsways a driver at the ready. Nobody will notice. From there, we'll retreat to Lannisport Airport. I've got my own jet. And then, we'll fly to Qarth for our wedding."

The desert city was famous for magicians' shows, gambling and impromptu weddings these days. It also provided the luxusious hotel and wedding infrastructure Tywin needed and expected. He guessed that a minimum of romantic flair would be of crucial interest for a young woman like Sansa Stark. And while he himself wasn't keen on romance, he was of the opinion that an upper-class wedding had to meet certain standards, unscheduled execution of the process notwithstanding.

Sansa didn't comment on Tywin's explanations, so he said, "All right. Here are your clothes from yesterday evening. I fear I cannot give you anything for changing, but we can send a servant to the shops at the airport to buy something for you."

"You've got a plan for everything, haven't you?" Sansa sniffled.

Tywin shrugged.

"I'm an battle-hardened entrepreneur and a CEO. Crisis mode is my default setting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I've just made a slight alteration to this chapter.


	14. Off to Essos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I made a slight alteration to the last chapter after having posted it first. Sansa is already a student at university. Nothing grave, but I wanted to keep consistent with what I'd written in the first chapter. ;-)

Everything went as Lord Tywin had predicted it. No papparazzo disturbed them during their escape to Lannisport Airport. And there, they didn't enter via the main hall. There was an extra building where the security measures for plane owners took place. It was very calm there. Luckily, Sansa still had her passport on her, so there were no organisational problems.

Until they could start, Sansa and the Lord of Lannister sat down in an empty VIP lounge. A servant turned up with new clothes he had purchased for Sansa: everything from exquisite stockings to a blue polo shirt. Sansa accepted an offered drink, because she felt she needed it. Her head was still spinning and her heart an open, raw wound.

 _"How could it all go so wrong? I just wanted to help!"_ her mind kept repeating like a mantra.

She looked at the man she would marry soon. VERY soon.

Lord Tywin was on his mobile.

"Yes, Cersei. The news are wrong. They haven't been informed correctly. And frankly I don't care about what Joffrey's saying. - No, I'm not saying I haven't met her. But the nature of it all is completely different. - No, not at the Rock. I'm on my way to Qarth. Yes, yes, Xaro Xhoan Daxos Palace Hotel. - No, not long, I'll be back in about three days, I'd say. - No, ask Kevan for details, I'll phone him next."

 

When Sansa heard Joffrey's name, she couldn't help a shudder. The memories of her ex-boyfriend were no fond ones. Joffrey had put her beloved wolfhound Lady to death, four years back in the past. At first, she hadn't wanted to believe the truth, but she had come to see soon enough what had happened. Needless to say, it had been the end of hers and Joffrey's relationship.

Sansa's thoughts returned to Joffrey's grandfather. And to the present.

 _"Why didn't he mention he's on his way to marrying me?"_ she wondered.

Then she imagined Cersei Lannister knowing all the details and understood. Interestingly enough, Tywin Lannister was more candid with his brother.

"Yes, Kev, we're at the airport. - Yes, Lady Sansa, too. - Kev... Kev, no need to lecture me about morals. We're going to marry in Qarth."

Sansa could hear Kevan Lannister's shocked exclamation even two metres away from the mobile. She wanted to sink into the ground.

"Kev, that's OUR choice, understood? And you know damned well that if we don't do this, you can order the cleaning commando to swipe up the shards of our enterprises and our lives. - No, don't tell the media any details before the ceremony is over. You may simply tell them I'm not in Westeros at the moment. - Yes, Kev, that's my last word."

 

Lord Tywin rolled up his eyes when the call ended. After that, he leaned towards Sansa.

"Now. What next? The flight to Qarth will take a few hours. We should use the time wisely. I've got my convertible here," he held up a netbook, "and I've got a marriage contract on the hard drive. It's the one I used some 35 years ago, and it was setting standards at the time. What was exemplary then should still be acceptable today. Still, we should go through all the paragraphs in detail and make alterations where necessary. While I'm not necessarily a fair man in business, even I can see that wedded life has got different constituants. And ours is not a love match, so we both have got to be particularly careful with our arrangement."

Sansa understood, but the mere thought of going through a complex marriage contract was daunting. She felt she still wasn't able of grasping very much of the text. She was still far too upset. Besides, the fact that theirs wouldn't be a love marriage weighed her down even more.

"I only ever wanted to marry for love," she mumbled, tears entering her eyes.

Lord Tywin cast her a side look.

Then, he growled: "As it is, it won't unhinge you when I die. I've made a different experience, and I can tell you: I wouldn't wish this fate even to the traitor who told the media about our... meeting. Come to think of it - who else could have known about our arrangement?"

 

It was difficult for Sansa to follow Lord Tywin's line of thinking, but after a moment, she said: "You don't think it was someone from the escort service?"

The Lord of Lannister snorted.

"Those people wouldn't want to produce a scandal. Discretion is the currency in their profession."

 

Sansa scratched her lips with her thumb.

"I... maybe... Petyr Baelish."

Lord Tywin stiffened.

"Petyr Baelish!? Of all people!?"

Sansa blinked.

"What do you mean? He's my father's public relations man."

Lord Tywin looked at her with big eyes, then palmed his face.

"My lady, your father is an oaf. In his youth, Petyr Baelish was besotted with your mother. He's also a big background player in the porn business. And if slimy falsehood needed a name, one could safely resort to him. To entrust such a man with such a task... it's like holding a blade to your own neck on slippery terrain. Decapitation inevitable. I'm convinced that Baelish has got a finger in your father's financial problems. Likely even both paws. And I must say you've been incredibly naive to carry out this man's ideas."

 

Sansa started to tremble, and tears spilled down her cheeks. There were no words for the shame she felt.

"My father never told me..."

Lord Tywin lifted an eyebrow.

"Then your father was an oaf to keep you clueless. And I must say you should have shown more interest in what's going on around you. But I fear many youngsters are more interested in the selfies on their social media accounts than in the dangers of the world."

 

Sansa cried even more now. Lord Tywin grabbed her wrist and forced her to look at him.

"My lady, mistakes have been made, and there will be uncomfortable consequences. But it doesn't mean you can't learn from your mistakes. Nobody comes out unscathed from his or her youth, believe an old man here. And I'm convinced you're right in the process of learning quite a bit. Nor does it mean you can't correct a few things here and there. I'll see to what can be done about it. First of all, we'll roast Baelish's balls until they're crisp. This man has to be stopped. And your father needs to know the truth about this traitor. I swear Baelish will curse the day he was born when I'm done with him."

 

The concept of vengeance felt alien to Sansa, and she didn't like it at all, but she saw that her soon-to-be husband would make Baelish pay under all circumstances. So she didn't object.

Lord Tywin grabbed his phone.

"Gregor? - Yes, I know it's been a while. I've got a task for you. There's this man, Petyr Baelish. He's working as Winterfell's public relations manager at the moment. I want a hand-written and signed testimony from him that he has tried to bring about Eddard Stark's downfall. And that he's lied to the media about mine and Sansa Stark's relationship. - No, you will NOT killhim. But you don't have to be nice to him. - All right, that's it. I'm off to Qarth now. When I return in about three days, you must have brought this matter to an end. Understood? Bye."

A cold shiver ran down Sansa's spine. Why did she have the weird feeling this Gregor hadn't offered to kill Petyr Baelish out of loyalty to his boss...?

 

Lord Tywin looked at her.

"Now off to the plane. We've got to board. And before we start you might want to put on your new clothes? I daresay you'll feel better with something clean. And without this mock-bra."

Sansa blushed, nodded and sniffled. Then, she followed the Lord of Lannister to his jet.


	15. Arrival in Qarth

The flight was uneventful for Sansa - but productive. Lord Tywin - _"I must learn to call him Tywin, I guess..."_ \- started his netbook in offline mode, and while they were sitting side by side, they went through the document that had once been Joanna Lannisters marriage contract. Her soon-to-be husband was all business, but Sansa was still under the impression that his tense shoulders revealed an emotional involvement. Deep down.

Sansa herself was all emotion, there was no denying it. Concentration was difficult after all the extreme recent developments. The fact that she was exposed to the man's unique scent didn't help her either. She hadn't even begun to process the intimate activities she had participated in, and she knew it. To make things worse, her most basic instincts remembered everything all too well and reacted. Despite her being crestfallen about the conflict with her family. Such internal contradictions didn't help one whit to focus on the treaty at hand.

Even so, Sansa strove to follow the Lord of Lannister's words. He read out every single paragraph, explained it, offered alterations and even asked for her opinions.

 

At one point, Sansa's eyes grew wide.

"So much money in case of a divorce?" she gasped.

Lord Tywin's eyebrow rose and gave Sansa the impression that such sums ranked barely above pocket-money level for him.

Gods. Sansa had grown up in a relatively wealthy family - before the family business had started to cause them problems. Yet, she now understood how far above Lord Tywin's financial dimensions were from what Eddard Stark operated with.

So she cleared her throat and asked, "What about supporting my family - without a divorce, I mean?"

"I was already wondering when you'd ask. Now. Let's consider the situation. At the moment, we have to stabilise my own enterprise, as you will remember."

Sansa cast down her eyes and nodded.

Lord Tywin continued, "If we can prevent long-term damage with our wedding, I could theoretically support your father to some extent."

Sansa gasped, but her fiancé held up a hand.

"THEORETICALLY. I don't think chances are high it'll come to that. First of all, your father would have to accept any help from my side - and it wouldn't have been easy to make him inclined to do so even before the scandal. Your father and I have never been friends. And after last night, things have become more problematic. I don't know his exact situation and don't know if we aren't already too late. Besides, your father will be stubborn, knowing I've whisked away his allegedly traitorous daughter. And my precondition would be that your father is willing to listen to my modernisation advice - and to accept you back into your family. I will not support a family that doesn't support my wife - and thus my own family."

 

Sansa bowed her head. What Lord Tywin was saying made sense. It hurt nevertheless. At the same time, it came to her as a surprise that he was already supporting her to such an extent, although the wedding was just a duty. That way she couldn't help but feel a certain commitment for his cause.

 

In this general atmosphere, the flight came to an end.

From above, Sansa had a good look at the layout of Qarth: with mountains and a red desert on one side and the sea on the other. On could see several tank ships approach the port, and the three Medieval city walls that engulfed the centre were still visible and intact.

"Will we be able to see something of the city? And of the seaside?" she asked.

"We'll have to find out what we can do once the wedding is over," Lord Tywin answered in a benevolent if somewhat diplomatic tone.

 

When they disembarked, the local heat hit them like a club, especially Sansa, who was accustomed to the cool climate of Wintefell. Thankfully, the limousine that took them to the Xaro Xhoan Daxos Palace Hotel had an air condition.

Sansa looked out of the window and noticed many colourful buildings in the city.

"This is beautiful," she breathed and thought that under different circumstances she'd have been beside herself with delight to see such architectural wonders.

"Qarth has always been a rich merchant city, and its port is still one of the world's trading centres."

"Have you already dealt with the people here?"

Lord Tywin cocked his head.

"My business is international, but my focus is on Westeros. I've got an Essosi expert or two in my lines. The links to the Iron Bank in Braavos and to the traders in Pentos are better, because those places are closer. Even so, I've got a moderate trading contact here. But nothing that could shake my enterprise if something goes wrong."

"Unlike a night with me," Sansa uttered before she could stifle the comment.

She blushed. Apart from inclining the head, her fiancé didn't see the need to give her an answer.

 

Soon, they arrived at the palace hotel. It was a huge, elegant, old-fashioned building with massive walls and intricate decorations. Slender palm trees flanked the impressive entrance. Sansa understood at once why Lord Tywin had booked this hotel.

He said to her, "Qarth has got a big wedding industry here, as you'll know, and the hotel is designed accordingly. One quarter or even a third of the rooms are honeymoon suites. Each one has got its own spa bath. Including underwater music and shower heads with rainbow light effects, I've been told."

Sansa blushed when memories of her outrageous activities in the bathroom of Casterly Rock bubbled up in her mind.

 

While her fiancé was filling out all the necessary information at the reception desk, Sansa looked around in the entrance hall. There was dark, elegant wooden furniture, alternating with white and golden elements, and there were more little palm trees in high pots. The chandeliers were all crystal and the ochre-coloured carpets on the marble floor were soft, yet durable. Every inch of the building breathed exclusivity.

To Sansa's surprise, there was also a shop that catered to the needs of couples about to marry. Sansa walked over. There were dozens of rings on offer, as well as wedding cakes in different shapes and sizes, wine and champagne bottles, flower bouquets, there was a poster with offers for wedding dinners, and there were fitting clothes: dresses, suits, shoes... everything you could think of.

 

Once he was done, Tywin joined her.

"This is perfect for our needs," he commented. "Let us stay here right away to purchase all the relevant items. The hotel's wedding hotline has scheduled our wedding in the Garden of Gehane for tomorrow morning. We've got the very first time slot. Thankfully, they do have a septon of the Faith here."

Sansa's heart stuttered on learning that now things were getting serious.

 

She squared her shoulders and cleared her throat.

"Which rings do you want?"

Together, they went through all the things they needed for a proper wedding. Of course, Tywin was in favor of gold rings, but Sansa found out he was actually willing to hear her opinion on all these matters. What surprised her even more was that their tastes didn't really differ. They both immediately looked at the same little cream-coloured wedding cake, which was designed for no more than two eaters. They both decided in unison against a bouquet of roses and rather in favour of a red exotic local type of flower. Tywin accepted it at once when Sansa discovered a silvery hairnet with pearls.

"Choose a dress that doesn't reveal to much skin," he advised her. "Remember the respectability thing."

"Absolutely," Sansa agreed and found a dream in white Myrish lace.

She looked at the price and grimaced. To her surprise, Tywin showed no signs of distress. Quite the contrary: he found himself a beige suit and elegant taupe shoes and paid the set as well.

 

When they had settled all these matters, they moved on to their suite. It was an exotic dream, all white and cream, combined with elaborate patterns and colourful details. Of course, the focal point was the huge four-poster bed with silken shawls all around, embroiderd with gold.

 _"I'll be sharing a bed with him again,"_ Sansa thought, looked at Tywin, and her heartbeat accelerated.

"We should have a light dinner. And some wine", her fiancé suggested. "Let's call the room service."

Sansa agreed at once. Her last snack had been a cereal bar at the VIP lounge in Lannisport, and despite all the drama that her life had become, she suddenly felt an appetite.

 

When the food arrived, they ate in silence, but strangely enough, it didn't feel bad. After the day's stress it was good not to talk. They both drank some exquisite wine, and they had a chicken dish.

Sansa could feel her limbs turn heavy. She yawned. The day's developments were taking their toll.

After their dinner, they put off their clothes and went to bed. Tywin was checking his phone and writing messages while Sansa's drowsiness increased and her drooping eyelids closed. The last things she felt before she fell asleep were two strong arms around her middle and a warm body against her back. Sansa sighed, felt safe, and let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is more world and relationship building than action. I hope that that's okay.


	16. Wedding night part one - early birds edition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might not be wise to be drinking something while reading this...

Tywin could tell he wasn't used to sharing a bed with someone when he woke up around the hour of the wolf. Without switching on a light, he went to the bathroom to relieve himself. The room wasn't as dark as Eddard Stark's prospects, he mused, so he could still pick his way.

When Tywin returned, he suddenly had to blink. What were those sounds?

 _"The Stranger take me!"_ Tywin thought and shook Sansa's arm.

"What?" she sputtered and sat up.

"You're snoring," Tywin said.

"What!?" Sansa exclaimed.

 _"Her night-time vocabulary isn't overly elaborate,"_ Tywin commented inwardly.

"You're snoring, my lady."

"I'm a woman. I don't snore!"

"Like an asthmatic mating hedgehog. Must have been the wine for dinner."

 

Sansa was still scandalised and rigid. Obviously the wine wasn't enough of an excuse for her. Ah, he couldn't help it. Tywin was sure he wouldn't have been able to fall asleep again without waking her up, so he didn't have a guilty conscience. Not that he ever had one.

 

Then, a shiver ran through Sansa's body, and Tywin was alert at once.

 _""Damn,"_ he realised in the blink of an eye. _"She's finally remembered the one direct way to get into contact with her family - the good old e-mail. But she mustn't get an answer before the wedding."_

"Tywin!" Sansa gasped.

"That's my first name. So you've decided to use it?" he asked.

And pressed his lips onto hers. At first, she struggled, because she wanted to tell him of her idea. Tywin invaded her mouth with his tongue - and to his eternal relief, Sansa started to react.

Tywin's intention was to make her think about a different kind of "direct access". He hadn't been sure she'd open up to him. After all, she'd come to him as an escort woman. But her reactions the night before had been genuine - and so they were now.

 

"Can I write an e-mail, Tywin?" Sansa managed to ask when they had to take a breath.

"Right after the first part of our wedding night, what do you say?" Tywin suggested in a meaningful tone.

 _"I've got to last long,"_ he realised. _"And I've got to make her so happy she'll fall asleep again."_

With determination, he pressed his hardening cock against his fiancées private parts - and Sansa gasped and opened her legs for him. Tywin continued to rub himself against her and kissed her deeply. He assumed she'd like that... and given her sweet taste, he was more than willing to invest some efforts. At the same time, his hands weren't idle either and caressed the smooth, silken skin of her backside.

 

Sansa moaned and reciprocated his intimate touches. It was an unusual thing that she didn't shy away from his ageing body - even desired it. In one way or another, she had to be special.

Tywin's mouth crept southwards with wet, warm, breathy kisses. He remembered all too well how intensely Sansa had reacted on his solar desk; for that reason, he resolved to bring about her first orgasm in Qarth with his lips and tongue and teeth. It was contending to find her already wet for him.

"Tywin!" Sansa groaned.

Hmmm, how easily his name came off her lips when she was aroused - and what an exquisite ring it had when her voice was shaky with need. Zealous to satisfy his bride, Tywin set to work and used all the tricks he had ever learned. Or heard of. Within minutes, Sansa bucked against him and came with an outcry.

Aaaah, that was the way Tywin wanted to have it. He wondered how often he could cause his soon-to-be wife to explode. As sensitive as she was, he estimated three to four times. He guessed that his age  - and his experience - were rather helpful than an obstacle.

 

His throbbing cock demanded a first round for itself, so Tywin wiped his mouth, moved upwards and slid into the still quivering little cunt that was so wide open for him. Sansa moaned, and Tywin found her sounds most enticing.

He kept an iron grip on himself - an early shot on his part wouldn't help his cause at all. Sansa wasn't exhausted enough. Yet.

In and out he slid, casually. Almost languidly.

 _"I don't need a sore cock again,"_ he told himself. _"Not on my wedding day."_

This was easier said than maintained; Sansa maybe wasn't experienced in the field of erotics, but she was enthusiastic and kept trying to speed up things.

Tywin helped her on the way by adding some friction to the game with his fingers. Her engorged nub was easy enough to find.

 

Sansa squealed and came a second time. Tywin pulled out, because otherwise, he couldn't have guaranteed for his self-control.

Once his bride started to gather her wits again, Tywin continued to serve her with his mouth. It was so intense for Sansa that tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she begged him for mercy. His concept of mercy was a third climax - and he fought for it until the delicious female body under him exploded again. What a luxurious moment it was! So flushed was his fiancée, so far beyond everything!

By then, Tywin's twitching cock was raging to get a greater share in the game, so he thrust into Sansa - and this time he didn't hold back. He took his bride with quick, hard thrusts and turned into a predator who devoured his victim, no less. The bed creaked, despite its solid build. Tywin's jaws clenched and he knew nothing more than the need to reach completion. He groaned - and his groans turned into a hiss when his balls finally tightened and catapulted his seed where it belonged.

 

Tywin sank down, then rolled himself off Sansa after a second or two. The young woman still hadn't regained her composure after her last orgasm. She was crying silently, pressed herself against him - and dozed off faster than you could say "Lannister".

 _"Mission accomplished,"_ Tywin thought. He couldn't help but think that even for a critical man like him it had been an acceptable beginning for a wedding day. And with these thoughts, he dozed off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never heard mating hedgehogs: their acoustic special effects are quite dramatic. ;-)


	17. Turning into Mrs. Lannister

When the hotel reception made its wake-up call in the morning, Sansa woke from a pleasant dream. She felt happy and relaxed... until she realised she was lying in Tywin Lannister's arms. It crossed her mind what had transpired at night and wanted to sink into the ground. Finally, she remembered that this was her wedding day.

Oh sweet Mother!

"Tywin! I must write father an e-mail! I forgot to do it last night. May I use your netbook?"

 

The Lord of Lannister yawned and stretched himself like a big cat.

"Mmmm. - An e-mail, you say? Sure. Why didn't we think of it before? Ah, all the pandemonium in Westeros, one really couldn't think clearly. But do keep your mail short for now. We don't have much time. We've got the first wedding slot, remember? And I want to have the convertible off during our wedding. Otherwise, we won't concentrate - and though ours may not be a wedding based on romance, I wouldn't want to profane it by looking at a screen every three seconds."

 

Sansa nodded hesitantly. Of course, Lord Tywin was right. A lot of things he said made sense, even if she'd have liked it all differently. Most of all, she felt melancholic that theirs wasn't a love match.

Her bridegroom handed her the technical device she needed and said, "You can write your mail while I'm taking a shower. Then, we can switch. I still have to write one or two business mails to instruct my brother for the day."

Sansa nodded again. It surprised her that Lord Tywin was about to allow her his private netbook while he wasn't in the room. She resolved to honour this trust.

 

Once she opened her mailing interface, her mind focused on what she had to write. After all, she was in a hurry.

 _"I won't tell father I really went to Lord Tywin as an escort woman,"_ she resolved. _"It wouldn't help."_

So Sansa started to type.

 

"Dear Mother, dear Father,

you cannot imagine how sad I am. It was never my intention to bring harm to our family. Quite the contrary! Knowing how dire our financial situation is, I went to meet Lord Lannister to get his support for our family. I'm not a traitor. I had no idea that the media could get a whiff of my meeting with Lord Lannister and would turn it into such a scandal. I'd have contacted you sooner, but my mobile is dead.

Lord Lannister has done the only decent thing to save our respectability. We're going to marry in about an hour. We're in Qarth now, but we'll come back soon, and then, we've got to sort out things. I hope you can forgive me.

Hugs,

Sansa"

 

She sighed when she pressed the "Send" button. Next, she turned to the sounds coming from the bathroom. There was no whooshing water, so Lord Tywin had already finished his shower.

Sansa walked over and knocked.

Her bridegroom was in the process of shaving. It was an oddly intimate situation to see him naked and with foam on his face.

"You can use the shower, my lady. I'm done here in a few moments."

 

Memories flooded Sansa's brain once more when she stepped under the sprinkling water, and she flushed scarlet. They had done such outrageous things!

 _"And I want them to happen again,"_ she realised with a shock. How was it possible to come to appreciate this man's embrace in such a short time?

 

After the shower, Lord Tywin helped Sansa with the wedding gown. Fortunately, the closing mechanism on the back wasn't as complicated as the Myrish lace patterns.

A servant arrived with the flower bouquet. It was as beautiful as they had anticipated. And in his new, elegant suit, the Lord of Lannister looked handsome, there was no denying it.

 _"Under different circumstances, this would be truly romantic,"_ Sansa thought.

 

Together, they left the suite and went to a waiting white stretch limousine in the yard of the hotel.

"This IS romantic, despite everything," Sansa breathed, and though Lord Tywin was serious, he had a smug air about him.

 

On their way to the Garden of Gehane, they saw various lovely sights. They passed a bronze arch that looked like two mating snakes, and there, they saw several other wedding couples. The arch was the most important and most common background for wedding photos. The scales of the snakes featured flakes of jade, obsidian and lapis lazuli - a truly impressive sight.

They also passed many slender towers and sparkling fountains - true luxury, so close to the desert. And the delicate balconies that were visible everywhere helped to deepen the overall impression of an outstanding architecture.

"Do you know any other sights?" Sansa asked her bridegroom.

He shrugged.

"There's the Arcade of Heroes. Many impressive statues, I've heard. We could have a snack there after our wedding. Our big wedding dinner is still hours away."

That was an idea Sansa appreciated at once. She was curious about the local delicacies.

Meanwhile, Lord Tywin went on, "There's also the House of the Undying, that's the big, squat building over there, look." He pointed. "Not interesting for now, my lady. The magic shows are in the evening - and I daresay we've got more interesting activities to do tonight."

Sansa blushed and didn't know what to answer.

Lord Lannister still wasn't done.

"There's also Warlocks Way - the main shopping street of Qarth these days. I don't think a wedding day is suitable for shopping, however."

Sansa agreed with the shake of her head.

 

"And here we are," Lord Tywin said, as the stretch limousine slowed down. "We can look into a city guide later. First things first."

Sansa's heart palpitated. She knew that they had reached the point of no return.

 

The Garden of Gehane had terraces with fields of so-called Ghost Grass on two sides, which grew high and shielded you from sight - that way, it allowed for privacy; and there were ornate, massive, dark wooden handrails and arches everywhere. Narrow paths led into the Ghost Grass and on to pavilions that were overgrown with plants in full bloom. The colours were mind-blowing and the scent was sweet.

In each pavilion, there were priests of various cults, professional wedding witnesses, lawyers for the paperwork, and photographers. One could see standard wedding cloaks that were used for each ceremony of the Faith. And wedding couples. Up to two dozens at a time.

 

A grey-haired, heavy-set septon welcomed them when Sansa and Lord Tywin approached the pavilion that had been allocated to them.

"Good morning, I'm Septon Olyn, the representative of the Faith. Pleased to meet you and to carry out your wedding ceremony. - And here, we've got your wedding witnesses, Xeli Cean Ophys and Athis Halxan Punxho."

Two short, slender men with angular beards approached them and bowed. They looked like relatives, cousins perhaps.

The priest continued, "Do you have the rings?"

Lord Tywin fumbled for a little box in his pocket and produced the two golden, slender bands in question.

Septon Olyn smiled, nodded, and spoke, "Let us begin then."

His words rang like doom in Sansa's ears.

 

She didn't really hear what was going on afterwards. She just reacted automatically. Put on a maiden cloak. Endured the septon's preaching. Spoke the vow. Heard a second vow in a male voice. Exchanged a short peck with her bridegroom. Exchanged the rings.

When the time came, Tywin removed the maiden cloak and wrapped another one around her shoulders.

The septon declared them husband and wife.

At that moment, Tywin lifted her chin with a finger, and Sansa looked into intense green eyes flecked with gold. Tywin bowed and kissed her. Deep.

Sansa's heart thundered against her ribcage.

 _"This is TOO romantic!"_ The thought flitted through her mind. _"It shouldn't be so romantic!"_

Unfazed, her bridegroom kissed her some more - until the photographer coughed. And the lawyer was already looking at his watch. They needed to finish the procedure, and there wasn't much time left until the next couple arrived. So they sped up, registered the wedding, had their photo taken... and were done.

 

Together, they emerged from the Garden of Gehane and walked over to the waiting stretch limousine.

"We still need an adequate frame for the photo. That's something we can possibly find near the Arcade of Heroes. Ready for a snack... LADY LANNISTER?"

When she heard the name, Sansa pressed a hand onto her belly, and for a moment, the world turned upside-down.


	18. Wedding nig... AFTERNOON - Excursion edition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In need of more smut. And weird, warbled emotions. Sorry, not sorry.

On leaving the Garden of Gehane, Tywin had a real moment of miserable feelings.

He thought, _"Joanna, Joanna, what a mess_ _. I didn't plan this ahead. I've never wanted to betray you. But believe me: she's none like you. Nobody could ever compare to you."_

Then, his mind snapped back into focus since he noticed his bride was a bit unsteady on her feet.

He spat, "That's what happens without a breakfast. Your blood sugar must be low. Mine certainly is. Off we go to our snack."

And with those words, he grabbed Sansa's elbow and led her to the car. He had the driver take them to the Arcade of Heroes.

The plinths with their statues were as impressive as one could expect, but at this point, Tywin was far more interested in the multiple elegant cafés in the area. They chose one and sat down. Sansa got a sweet treat that consisted of extremely thin, crisp layers of dough dunked in syrup and enriched with cinnamon and nuts. Merely looking at the sugary thing caused Tywin's teeth to hurt, but Sansa wolfed it down and even ate a ration of spicy cookies with clotted cream right afterwards.

Tywin rather chose a flatbread with a sauce on it that was so hot the spices seemed to sear his tongue away. To calm down his senses, he ordered caramelised goats' cheese with fresh figs and nuts as a dessert and washed it all down with cool home-made lemonade.

 

While they were munchig on their food, Sansa leaned forward, blushed, and spoke under her breath.

"I feel much better now, thank you. Erm... I've got a question. Would it be possible to buy something in this shopping street you've mentioned? Warlock's something - what was its name? You see... I had those open pants on our first night, and I got a set of underwear at the airport, but this morning, I didn't have anything fresh..."

Tywin choked on a sip of lemonade as outrageous images entered his mind.

He coughed, then asked throatily, "You're not wearing anything underneath?"

Sansa's cheek colour intensified.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Pah!" Tywin made. "I'm the last one to complain. Quite the contrary. You don't need any underwear today."

He thought, _"Gods, she's so clueless about the effect she's got... Really, Joffrey must be the daftest boy in Westeros to have let her go!"_

Aloud, he added, "I've got an idea. Instead of doing the average tourist tour, it would be better to relax after all the stress we've had. I've learned at the hotel that it's possible to book a private, secluded little bay at the seaside. Picknick set and blanket included. Nobody would disturb us there. What do you say?"

Of course, Tywin didn't mention that the area was, in fact, so secluded that likely there wasn't any access to the Internet.

 

Thankfully, his bride was enthusiastic about the idea. Maybe, she hadn't wanted to marry him, but she didn't mind spending time with him. That was an absolute rarity. Apart from Kevan and probably Genna nobody cared about spending time with him, least of all his children. In Tyrion's case, he was even glad about it.

 

Suddenly, Sansa furrowed her brow.

"Oh! But we don't have any swim wear."

"Why, we've got our skin," Tywin offered, and Sansa's blush deepened to a rich scarlet.

Given what they had already done together, it was a bit of a surprise that his bride was still so sensitive about their bodies. Was it because Tywin's body was old and she'd see it in harsh daylight now?

Tywin's jaws started to work.

Then, Sansa whispered, "You know... no man has ever seen me like you."

That caused Tywin's heart to beat a bit quicker. He knew he'd been the first one to fuck her, but he hadn't known the scope of her innocence. In that case, it was nothing short of a wonder she hadn't run away from him screaming. Even fully dressed and without any erotics involved, people had run away from him screaming.

 _"She's nothing like Joanna,"_ he thought. _"But she's unique in her own right."_

 

 

After having settled for a beach interlude, the driver took them to the hotel, and Tywin arranged everything. He rented a posh, impressive SUV and hoped Sansa didn't sympathise with the NGP, the Northern Green Party, considering the mileage of the car. And considering the fact that Tywin was a conservative.

Sansa didn't seem to mind the vehicle, and Tywin decided to drive it himself. He didn't want a driver around when he was in the process of... indulging in his bride.

Together, they darted off with the vehicle. The GPS directed them safely; after a while, they left the asphaltic road and followed a red, dusty path to the place they had booked for their tête-à-tête.

There was a little overhanging cliff with some thorny bushes growing on top of it. Further down was a little bay with clear, blue water. Someone had transported sand there to give it the air of a real beach.

 

"Ooooh! This is so beautiful! Look at the scenery! Erm... can we make camp in the shade?" Sansa asked. "I don't want to catch a sunburn."

That was no problem. The overhanging cliff provided what they needed - in Tywin's case it was privacy.

They spread a picknick blanket on a big, flat, warm rock. Of course, it wasn't as comfortable as the sea grass that grew near Lannisport, but Tywin didn't want to complain about something that couldn't be changed.

 

He sat down, still wearing his suit and looked up at Sansa, who was standing in front of him in her beautiful wedding dress, and who was gazing at the sea with bright eyes. Greedy lion that he was, Tywin allowed his hand to sneak under her billowing skirt and up her long legs.

Her head whipped around, blue eyes wide, and she gasped, "Tywin!"

Perhaps it was meant to sound like protest, but there was yearning underneath.

"That's my name," he said, and his fingers found her apex. There was really no underwear. Sansa uttered a whimper.

Tywin hummed to himself. Why not do something utterly intimate while they were still fully dressed in their formal wedding clothes and without things getting too visible? It was an interesting concept, he found. With one finger, he slid into her opening, and with the pad of his thumb, he started to caress her nub.

Within moments, Sansa was panting and continued to stare down at him, spellbound, as if she were a mouse in front of a snake. Only Tywin was planning a sweeter kind of death for her.

It was fascinating: he was really only touching her in one place, and yet, his bride was reacting to him with an intensity that revealed her healthy, youthful appetite.

 _"I have to keep satisfying her a lot,"_ he thought. _"She mustn't even think of a younger man."_

Fortunately, he was experienced enough to cater to her needs in different ways.

 

His knowledge paid off all too well: within few minutes, Sansa moaned and clenched around his inquisitive finger. Ah, yes, that was a acceptable beginning.

Tywin's cock was only half hard, which was no wonder after the way it had been used during the previous nights. However, the state it was in was still sufficient to claim a wet and willing bride.

So Tywin opened the zipper of his trousers and the buttons of his pants and said to Sansa, "My turn."

She was just recovering, and her knees were shaking, so she was obviously glad to sit down. Within no time, she straddled him, and he glided into her.

Aaaaah! Yessss! That was where he belonged.

 

The long skirt of the wedding gown bunched all around them, and any secret onlooker wouldn't have been any wiser about the actual nature of their touches.

Sansa sighed, wrapped her arms around Tywin and placed her cheek against the crook of his neck.

"Oh my!" she whispered. "Why do you feel so good?"

Tywin's stomach somersaulted, and he answered, "Because nature wants us to fuck. This all about instincts."

Sansa's reaction was to bury her face against his neck.

Tywin really didn't understand. Why did she not want to marry him, but was eager to touch him? He wasn't used to touches, even less to gentle ones like hers. Damn him, he had had some twenty-five nameday whores since Joanna's death, and he hadn't touched those women, apart from sticking his cock into their cunts. He didn't even remember a single face.

But here was Sansa, formerly Sansa Stark, now Sansa Lannister, and she wanted to feel him. Wanted to embrace him. And while Tywin did know a thing or two about lust and passion, tenderness was the most foreign Essosi village for him.

 

To make things worse, his cock, this traitor, softened inside his bride. The last night had been too much for it after all. Sansa, however, didn't seem to care one whit and simply stayed in the position she was in.

Tywin was close to shaking himself like a house cat that had fallen into a pool: they were cuddling! Cuddles! Of all things! And out in the open! Nobody had ever seen the Lion of Lannister do such a thing in public.

 _"I'm getting soft!_ " he thought. _"I must be careful, lest I end up as a weak fool like father."_

 

In response to this, Tywin growled, "It's getting too warm. We must put off our clothes. I also want to go swimming. Will you come along?"

Sansa looked at him, sighed, and answered, "All right." And kissed him square on his mouth before moving off of him.

Tywin goggled at her and couldn't help commenting, "You're too clinging for someone who didn't want to marry me."

Sansa looked down at her feet, and her shoulders drooped. Within moments, she appeared to be close to tears.

"I think my father won't accept me back, it's become ever clearer to me since writing that mail. From his point of view, I must have wronged him irrevocably. If I myself were presented with that stupid escort women's contract, I'd have a hard time believing anything else. That, in its turn, means that it may well be possible you're the only one in my life now."

 

Tywin was impressed by Sansa's clear vision. Most people tried to avoid an ugly truth, even beyond better wisdom. His bride was different. She possessed what was necessary to work in - or even lead - an international enterprise. What it needed to preserve a family legacy. Since Joanna had died, Tywin had never encountered a person - man or woman - who could have met these standards. His own children possessed this quality least of all.

 _"Sansa's a treasure more valuable than gold,"_ he thought.

The idea shocked him. Made him angry.

"I'm good at many things, but not at being an only one for someone else," he snapped. "Now off to the water. I don't want to melt in the heat."

 

Tywin shook off his clothes at top speed, opened the backside of Sansa's wedding gown, and made for the sea. He waded into the waves, and as soon as he got accustomed to the temperature, he started to crawl back and forth with all the vigour he possessed. He had a pool at the Rock, but this, the open sea, was the real thing. A rare opportunity, given his usually packed schedule.

 

When he looked back to the beach, he saw Sansa stand in the water. She seemed to have regained her composure, more or less. Her rosy nipples were the most enticing sight. She was bathing, rather than swimming.

After a while, Tywin returned to her.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Oh yes!" Sansa answered. "It's just that I've never swum in the open sea. We've got hot pools at Winterfell, but that's more for relaxation, rather than for swimming. But you're so fit! How can you swim so fast, and despite the waves?"

Tywin arched an eyebrow.

"I grew up at the seaside. In my youth, I often went down to the beach near Lannisport. And I've always done some training to keep my body fit."

Sansa nodded in understanding.

"I'll make sure to train as well when we return. - Tywin, I know this is nothing what you wanted. This wedding, the scandal... So thank you for saving me."

"Can't remember the last time I felt as decent as I do now," Tywin answered and grimaced. "Icky feeling."

Sansa looked at him and said slowly, "In that case... Perhaps I can reduce that feeling of decency by being a good escort woman."

 

Despite the cold water, Tywin's cock twitched a little.

"That might help," he agreed. "Perhaps I should fuck you in the shallow water first and later on the blanket on the warm stone. And again in the seat of the car."

Sansa panted a little.

"And you're sure about your... virility?"

"Pfft! You will remember that there are more ways than just the standard in-and-out programme. ESCORT WIFE."

Tywin licked his lips. Slowly. A predator ready to fall on its prey.

"Either way, my lady, I'll make sure we'll be very hungry for our wedding dinner at the hotel."


	19. From daddy to daddy

When they finally returned home to their hotel, they had had a more than acceptable day at the beach. Tywin's cock was so sore and they were so full of one another's presence that it was clear there would be no more in-and-out activities at night. After the recent days of enhanced intimate activities, he didn't mind, though.

 _"Sansa hasn't asked for my netbook once,"_ he thought.

It was clear she was trying to push any possible bad news to the back. No wonder she had been so willing - even needy - to get fucked into oblivion. Of course, Tywin had been at her service for as long as possible. He'd never shy away from an opportunity and would never try to make less than the most of a given situation.

 

It was good their wedding dinner was waiting for them in their suite. After their tumbles, they were pretty much starved. Normally, Tywin controlled his diet. Robert Baratheon was the best - or rather worst - example of unrestricted food consumption. This evening, Tywin was in such a state he actually needed half of what his daughter's dim-witted husband ate, which was far more than usual. Ah, but it was Tywin's wedding day, so he allowed himself a huge piece of the wedding cake. Even a critical man like him had to concede that it was quite tasty.

After the shortest look at his mobile, he also drank an extra glass of red wine. Among the tons of messages he had received there was also one from his sister Genna - and Tywin had a clear idea of how she wouldn't mince her words with regard to his wedding. By now, the news of his unforeseen marriage would be out. He had instructed Kevan accordingly.

 _"Let the waves crash on the shore,"_ he thought.

 

After their dinner, Tywin handed Sansa his convertible.

"There's no use in running away from it," he growled.

Sansa tensed and nodded.

 

About one minute and a half later, a sob told Tywin his bride had been all too right with her dark premonitions.

"Your father is an oaf," he said. "Like my own sire. Friendly enough at first sight, but incompetent once you have a closer look."

Sansa didn't reply. Crying, she handed him the netbook so he could read the e-mail himself. Tywin was surprised she'd share something so private with him.

 

He started to read, and some of Eddard Stark's sentences seared into his mind like brandings.

_"... Sansa, you have lied to us about your stay in Lannisport. I've seen this disgusting contract, and I know your signature. How could I possibly still believe you? ... Your mother is beside herself, and so are your siblings. ... Thanks to you, our enterprise is beyond recovery. ... I'm utterly shocked, and it's beyond me that you intend to marry this disgusting lecher of a man. He could be your grandfather. He's cold and remorseless like a wight. If you really bind yourself to him, after all that you've already done, you're foresaking your place in the Stark family. ... It pains my heart. Where is the sweet girl I knew?..."_

 

Tywin did something he usually didn't do: he blew up his cheeks. He felt the urgent need to smash something.

"I'll copy the e-mail addess and answer your father from my account," he told his bride.

She didn't object, grief-stricken as she was. So Tywin set forth with his project and started to write.

 

_"Lord Stark,_

_Do you know the saying: when is a fat woman happy? When she sees a fatter one. Along these lines: I have used to consider myself an exceedingly bad father, so it is interesting to discover one whose failure is even more encompassing._

_All the world knows that I despise my son Tyrion and have always done so. My son never truly expected any different from me. However, although Tyrion killed my first wife during his birth and although he destroyed my life, I raised him in the Lannister family and did not expel him, no matter how much I wanted to._

_You, Lord Stark, were irresponsible enough not to prepare your daughter for the evils of this world. As a consequence, she trusted a windbag like Petyr Baelish, who told her that the false identity of an escort woman would be a good disguise to meet me and to converse with me about money to save Winterfell Enterprises. She risked everything to save you from the CEO mistakes you have made yourself. And here you are, an allegedly loving father, blackmail her emotionally about not marrying me, and all but evict her from your castle and your family._

_You, your family, the media, THE PUBLIC - everyone condemns her. Not even a lecherous would-be-wight like me could be so hard-hearted not to do the only reasonable thing to save her from the worst effetcs. That you are so fervently against the only chance she has got doesn't speak in your favour either. Now who could have ever thought there would be a situation where I am more of a gentleman than you?_

_I hope you will at least be honourable enough to send Sansa her private belongings to the Rock._

_Tywin Lannister_

_(your son-in-law)_

_Post scriptum: You should think about my critical words, instead of rejecting them. It would be more honourable not to tear down all your bridges to Sansa."_

 

Tywin handed Sansa the netbook so she could read his e-mail. She did so and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"This will leave scorched earth," she whispered.

Tywin arched his eyebrows.

"If he's not able to see himself critically."

He suspected the word "if" was probably superfluous. Sansa was still beyond objecting, so Tywin sent the e-mail.

 

"Looks like your place is really at my side now, Sansa," he rumbled. "I'll have to answer a few e-mails from my own mob now. But then, we should go to bed."

Sniffling, Sansa nodded. She was crying herself into exhaustion.

Tywin thought that under any other circumstances, her tears would annoy him. That he was able to at least tolerate them spoke volumes about what had transpired.

When he looked at his chock-full inbox, however, it did to his mood what Sansa's tears had not been able to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always wanted to tell Ned about his own shortcomings. From Tywin's POV it turned out more acid than it could have been from anyone else's POV, I guess.


	20. Wedding night part two - no sex edition

For the next two hours, Sansa was busy crying until her eyeballs were on fire. Her heart was a dark pit that was dreading to suck her into a void. Why, oh why had it come to all of this? She had only meant to help, and this was the way she got "rewarded" for her attempt. That her parents and siblings would be shocked - hardly a surprise. That they would have doubts about her - realistic. But that they would condemn and reject her completely although they had known her from the beginning and without truly knowing all the details...

Sansa tried to tell herself that it was a realistic reaction on her family's part... and yet, she felt betrayed deep down, there was no helping it.

 

Tywin was at her side in bed and immersed into his e-mails, but time and again, he looked at her as if to make sure she wouldn't jump up and throw herself out of a window.

At some point, Sansa asked in a papery voice, "What's the situation like?"

Her bridegroom rubbed his face.

"With regard to business or to my family?" he asked. Sansa shrugged, so he continued, "All right. Business first then. After a rollercoaster tour at the stock market the news of our wedding have led to a correction of the course. Just as I had hoped it to happen. My business partners have congratulated me, even if they don't care about my private life in the least."

"Ooops. But in general, it sounds good," Sansa murmured. "And... your relatives?"

 

Tywin arched an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you want to know more about their attitudes?"

Sansa swallowed hard, but told herself it wouldn't help her to remain uninformed. She had been clueless about everything far too long.

"What do they say?" she croaked.

 

Tywin pressed his lips together for a moment.

Then, he said, "Cersei wants to cut you apart with a blunt spoon. Only I won't give her the chance to do so. Jaime is disgusted. Wondering why he - of all people - suddenly discovers a moral streak within him. Tyrion is trying to berate and to mock me after all my criticism of him whoring around in public. Pffft. As if our marriage could be compared to his bad style. He insinuated he didn't know I was into children. And Joffrey is writing something about me picking up his leftovers, the retarded boy."

 

Sansa's heart clenched. Gods. She had imagined it would be bad, but this was the worst possible development.

"Is there nobody who could have the potential to support us? Me?"

Tywin breathed in and out.

"My siblings are still shocked, and my sister is angry with me, but I think both Genna and Kevan will be polite enough towards you once they've got accustomed to our marriage."

It was just a tiny consolation in this mealstrom of drama, Sansa felt. And yet, it was better than nothing.

 

Suddenly, her bridgroom said, "A notification. I think there's an e-mail coming in for you. Here."

He handed her the tablet PC. Sansa took it with trembling hands and logged herself in at her e-mail account.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, eyes widening, "From Jon!"

"That's your bastard brother, right?"

Sansa nodded fervently and started to read.

 

_"Dear Sansa,_

_I don't understand all the details, and I'm still beside myself with shock and worries. I can't understand you. Not at all._

_But whatever has happened - I can't believe you'd harm the Starks willingly. Perhaps the day will come when I'll learn your view on the matter._

_For the time being, there's little use in talking about it. The effects are decisive now - and those are catastrophic. The last partners have turned their shoulders on Winterfell Enterprises. The firm is doomed. The only question is now whether father can sell parts and thus get some money out of the bankrupt estate._

_Father is looking like a ghost - by the way, Ghost is at my side now - and the others aren't faring much better. I think your mother is particularly disappointed and rigid in her rejection. I've tried to talk to Arya on the matter, but she doesn't differentiate. Neither does Robb. Like the other's, they're following the family's line of argumentation._

_I wish I had better news for you._

_Please give me some time to focus on my own affairs now. I'm about to join the Special Wall Squad. Wish me well. I'll do the same for you._

_Yours,_

_Jon"_

 

Sansa uttered a sob, although she thought she had shed all the tears she had. She had never been particularly close to her bastard brother - and now, of all people, he was the only one who'd give her a second chance!

Tywin watched her intensely, and from one moment to the next, Sansa threw herself at him and buried her face against his chest. He went rigid, and Sansa retreated, her ears becoming warm.

She muttered, "I'm being too clinging again, am I not?"

Tywin countered her question with another one, "Did your father answer my e-mail?"

Sansa shook her head and recounted what Jon had written.

"The only one who shows signs of intelligence," Tywin spat.

 

Sansa lowered her eyelashes and looked at the blanket. She found that theirs was a truly weird version of a wedding day.

She asked, "Will we return tomorrow?"

Tywin nodded.

"We have to sort things out. Or at least as much as possible."

Sansa understood this.

"Will there be flocks of papparazzi again?"

Her bridegroom cocked his head.

"Here in Qarth - no, thankfully. Back in Westeros - hundreds. At the airport. And twice as many at the Rock. You'll have to be strong tomorrow. We'll use a limousine with black windows, of course. No interviews for you. Especially not until Gregor Clegane has dealt with Petyr Baelish. Leave it to me to handle the papparazzi."

 

Sansa took Tywin's hand and pressed it for a moment.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Can't remember the last time anyone was grateful for anything I did," Tywin commented with a snort.

Sansa didn't know what to say to that.

 

Suddenly, a realisation struck her and her hand flew to her mouth.

"What is it?" her bridegroom wanted to know at once.

Sansa started to shiver all over.

"I've forgotten the pill for the last two days. I... I took it before our meeting at the Rock, but afterwards... the pandemonium... GODS!"

 

To her surprise, Tywin didn't look fazed by these news. Not at all.

"In case you're pregnant, it'll be a Lannister by birthright. We're married, and neither you nor a baby have to fear for financial or status problems. And since my previous children haven't proven to be suitable heirs... - I guess you're getting the picture."

Oh. Oh my.

Sansa felt dizzy and lay back.

 _"Too many news in too short a timespan,"_ she thought.

She didn't know what to think of a possible pregnancy.

 

Her bridegroom lay back now, just like herself.

"It's time to catch some sleep," he said. "I can tell you're exhausted."

Of course, he was right. It was creepy this man was so right in so many ways.

"Good night then," she whispered - and gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek.

 

Tywin uttered a growl.

"Maybe, I'm too sore to fuck, but my mouth is not. A good-night kiss for a husband is supposed to be different."

And with those words, he showed her what he meant and plundered her mouth with his own one. Sansa's dizziness increased, and she couldn't think straight.

When their lips parted, Sansa was panting, and she uttered, "You're thorough."

"Always."

 

It turned out that Tywin was the first one to fall asleep. Sansa was still upset and needed time to calm down, despite her exhaustion.

To her surprise, her sleeping bridegroom inched closer and threw an arm around her middle.

 _"Oh,"_ Sansa thought. _"No who's the clinging one in his sleep?"_

She couldn't help but finally smile a little.

It was clear that theirs wouldn't be a normal marriage, and there would always be problems and conflicts. On their first day as a wedded couple, however, they had fared astonishingly decently, hadn't they?

Sansa leaned her cheek against Tywin's shoulder and finally managed to fall asleep.


	21. Back to Westeros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for major character death.

Sansa still wasn't used to sleeping with a second person in bed. As a consequence, she woke up time and again. Ah, and of course, there was the nervousness about her return home.

HOME. Her home wasn't Winterfell anymore. It was Casterly Rock now, the place where all the drama had begun. Or hadn't it actually begun in Winterfell? Good gods, how her heart hurt!

 

Sansa tossed and turned and earned herself a growl or two from her bridegroom's side. Once, he murmured "Joanna", and Sansa felt so lacking it hurt. She thought she'd never reach the level or the place of this deceased grand lady. In the morning, Sansa had barely slept three hours and felt like a bent swig of water.

When Tywin rose, he cast a critical glance at her, and Sansa knew she looked even worse than she felt.

"We'll use the whirlpool before we leave the hotel. By the way, I've tasked the cleaning service to take care of your clothes. And I've ordered a new smartphone for you. Your other one was outdated anyway. Consider it a wedding present if you want to."

 

Sansa blushed.

"Thank you. For everything. But I don't have anything for you in return!"

Her bridegroom pointed with his chin.

"I'll be content for now if you spend some time with me."

Sansa's ears became even hotter when she realised her husband intended to use the whirlpool with her. She thought of what had transpired under the shower in Lannisport and wondered if Tywin would take things down this road again. Her womanhood was still sore from their extensive intercourse on the previous day.

It came to her as a relief, when her husband simply dunked himself into the water, and she just sat down on his lap and leaned against his chest.

"Do you like whirlpools, too?" she asked.

Tywin shrugged.

"I usually don't use them. No time. But for now, it's acceptable enough."

 

Like so often, Sansa didn't know what to say to his words, and she felt embarrassed. Like a clueless child.

Even so, the bubbles and the warm water helped her to relax. So did her husband's intense physical presence. Even when he wasn't aroused, he was impressive in general. And for the moment, he felt like a second backbone. Gave her strength.

 

Sadly, this bath couldn't last forever.

They got a nourishing breakfast served in their suite, and Sansa received her clothes and her brand new mobile. It was a luxurious version and the latest one you could get for money. Fitting for a Lady of Lannister. Sansa felt embarrassed, rather than happy. Quickly, she put on the new clothes she had worn on her flight to Qarth. They were really nice and comfortable - but they could do nothing against her pallid complexion. Back in Winterfell, she'd have used make-up to camouflage it, but here, she simply had her natural look.

 

Before leaving the hotel, Sansa went to the bathroom one last time - and there, she noticed her moon blood was about to start. So hers and her husband's intimacies would have no immediate consequences in that area. Was it a good thing or a bad one? Sansa didn't know what to think or to feel.

However, she reached a new level of embarrassment when she realised she'd have to leave Tywin's side for a moment to buy sanitary towels whith the scanty coins that were her own ones. The miserable rests of her old life.

 

Of course, her husband was curious about where she wanted to go and why - obviously, she behaved in a suspicious way. When Tywin learned of her situation, a deep wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows.

"You don't have to go anywhere. We'll have someone bring you the necessary items. And as soon as we reach Westerosi soil, you'll get a bank account, a credit card, and money. You are a member of a truly wealthy family now. It is important you learn to display your elevated status. Also in front of the media. If you think my family is a bunch of predators - journalists are like a flock of wight harpies."

Again, Sansa was speechless and could only nodd demurely.

 

Both the way to the airport as well as the flight back were uneventful. Tywin used the waiting time at the airport to exchange some e-mails, and he called his brother to give him detailed instructions on their arrival in Westeros. It was clear from Tywin's clipped reactions that Kevan Lannister was still no fan of the impromptu wedding. Sansa felt intimidated, but she knew her husband would continue to be like a beacon in a stormy sea. Arrogant as he was, he didn't give a seagull's droppings about the waves crushing against him, knowing he'd always stand firm.

 _"He may have many faults... and yet, I could have married a worse man,"_ Sansa realised. Under different circumstances, she'd have never chosen Tywin Lannister, but now that she was getting to know him better, their marriage looked like her least relevant problem in comparison to all the other drama around.

 

When the two finally landed in Westeros... it was in King's Landing, not in Lannisport!

Tywin informed Sansa, "Kevan has told me Cersei and Joffrey have travelled to the Rock to make our life the seventh of the burning hells. I don't feel inclined to meet her hysteric accusations. I can better deal with Robert here. Perhaps my good-for-nothing son-in-law can prove useful after all. I've got money - he always needs money. Your father has to sell his enterprise, and perhaps there are some attractive tranches. And Robert and your father are friends."

Sansa established the implied connections at once. Her eyes bulged. Next, she threw her arms around her husband's neck and kissed him.

Tywin rumbled, "Countenance! We'll meet the papparazzi mob in a few moments. It will be smaller than in Lannisport, because fewer people will expect us here. Still, there are some people with an impish cleverness around, expecting us to behave exactly the way we do. Speaking of 'Imp' - we'll meet Tyrion soon enough, too."

 

Those words sobered Sansa up at once. That her tummy started to hurt at the same time - and badly so - didn't help at all.

While they were still before the customs check, Tywin's phone rang. That he answered it was a good indication he was talking to his brother again. So was the ringtone.

Suddenly, Tywin's jaws tightened, his whole body stiffened, and his eyes widened. At once, Sansa had the worst premonitions.

"Fuck!" her husband spat, and since he was usually above vulgarities, this was the worst possible sign.

 

The phone call ended, and Tywin looked at Sansa with the greatest possible air of gravity about him.

Then, he said, "Sansa. It's just appearing on the news. My condolences. Your father has died."


	22. Damsel in distress

For a moment, Sansa was immobile like a statue and stared at him. Her breathing became flat.

"You're lying," she said  in a hollow voice.

"Not this time," Tywin answered. "Kevan has just told me your father has had a car crash on the Kingsroad, about five minutes from Winterfell. He ended up against one of the many trees you've got there. We've still got to wait for forensic details."

 

Sansa looked at him with the glassy eyes of a doll. No tears, no screaming. Tywin was used to women reacting differently. One only had to think of Cersei's tantrums. That Sansa took the news in like this was far more disquieting than any fit.

"Thank you for the information," she simply said. "Now let us get past the customs check and past the papparazzi."

 

Tywin understood then that she had some kind of shock, and that her fear of the media people was ingrained into her core after the scandal they had caused. She was trying to function for now, but the implosion would come. Inevitably.

And her instincts were right, he had to give her that.

 _"Better get the flashlight thunderstorm over with,"_ he thought.

So he took Sansa's arm in an iron grip to support her as she made wooden steps like a puppet on a string.

 

When they left the international area, it became evident that there weren't a hundred papparazzi and a dozen film teams, but just a dozen journalists in total. Still bad enough, sure, but it could have been worse.

Tywin made sure again he had a safe grip on his wife.

The journalists hollered things at them like "Lord Lannister!", "Lady Lannister!", "Look here!", "Care to explain your surprise wedding?", "How long have you been together?".

Then, one man shouted, "What do you say to your father's death, Lady Lannister?"

At once, Tywin wanted to stuff the man's ugly mouth with his severed cock.

 

The problem was that it was this question that got trough Sansa's defences. Sansa stiffened, then trembled, and Tywin knew what would happen next.

He caught his fainting wife in his arms and carried her to the exit of the airport. Of course, the papparazzi didn't care in the least about calling a maester or an ambulance. They were just intent of taking epic photos of the most unlikely heroic prince saving a damsel in distress. Tywin wouldn't snarl at them now - photos with him and an angry, shouting face would just trigger off more lies from the tabloid press. These people wouldn't listen to him anyway, maniacs on a hunt that they were. However, Tywin would remember the man who had asked the wrong question and deal with him accordingly.

 

Thankfully, it wasn't far to the limousine outside - it was just difficult to reach it with a flock of papparazzi on your heels.

Tyrion was inside the car and opened the door quickly. He looked shocked when he saw Sansa was unconscious.

Even so, Tywin's deformed son couldn't help commenting once they were all inside the door closed.

"You're attracting more dung flies than a heap of shit this days, father."

"Spare me the poor japes you consider witticisms," Tywin snapped.

He whipped out a single-use refreshment towel he had brought along from the plane, opened the sachet, and wiped Sansa's face. His wife had a waxen complexion.

 _"She needs to get some blood into her brain,"_ he thought, put Sansa into a lying position, grabbed a luxurious, gold-lined cushion, placed it onto his knees and arranged Sansa's legs on top of it.

 

After a moment, he noticed his son was staring at him, mouth agape.

"What!?" Tywin snapped at him. "Never seen first-aid measures? You should do a course then. Now at least TRY to prove yourself useful for the shortest moment. Don't stare holes into the air and call a maester. Not Pycelle. Someone who doesn't smell like a dead cat. Someone with traces of competence."

 

Now that finally propelled Tyrion into action - though he kept staring at him and Sansa.

Tywin's bride moaned and showed renewed signs of life.

"What... what...?"

"Wife, you've got the best timing for fainting one could expect in a woman. The papparazzi will be able to live off today's earnings for a month. Now look, here's Tyrion. You do remember him, don't you?"

 

Sansa blinked fast, and there was a wrinkle between her eyebrows. Her look meandered to his dwarf son.

"Tyrion? What..? Why?"

She stiffened and tried to sit bolt upright.

"FATHER!"

Tywin pushed her down.

"LIE DOWN," he ordered. "You've got a shock. LIE DOWN."

Sansa obeyed, but she started to tremble like a leaf.

"Father," she kept babbling. "I must go see him. The news must be wrong. I can help him."

"You can help us all, dear, if you keep lieing down and calm yourself."

 

Tyrion arched an eyebrow.

"DEAR?"

"Keep your ugly mouth shut and let's hope the maester you've chosen is an abled man."

 

They didn't drive to Lannister Tower with its penthouse, but to the nearer Red Keep, where the family had a wing of its own, too. Besides, the local maesters were better accessible there.

The medical  man in question didn't fuss around, thankfully, and gave Sansa a light sedative to help her calm down. Once she had dozed off in Tywin's capital four-poster bed, Tywin could turn to the other most pressing matters at hand.

None would be agreeable. With shoulders and jaws like iron he threw himself into the maelstrom his life had become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research while writing this.  
> Tywin's likely concept of what he wanted to look like in front of the papparazzi:  
> http://media.gettyimages.com/photos/mixed-race-man-in-suit-of-armor-carrying-woman-picture-id79383328?s=612x612http://media.gettyimages.com/photos/mixed-race-man-in-suit-of-armor-carrying-woman-picture-id79383328?s=612x612  
> What he probably really looked like:  
> https://orig03.deviantart.net/2f53/f/2012/154/d/4/car70a_by_des444con-d525rib.jpg


	23. Big boss and royal bollocks

The first positive thing on this day was for Tywin that he received an e-mail from Gregor Clegane. The man didn't write much. It was the attachment that counted. It contained Petyr Baelish's confession. Clegane added that he'd made sure Baelish wouldn't try to make any more out of this affair, or to ever play a relevant role again. Allegedly, the short man with the goatee was busy with other "problems" now.

Tywin found the result acceptable enough. He guessed he could count on the Mountain's assessment of the "deteriorated" status of a man he had dealt with.

 

The next positive point was that obviously, one of Lord Stark's last orders had been to send a van with Sansa's private items to Lannisport. Kevan told him he'd had a hard time to defend the things from Cersei and Joffrey. At once, Tywin wrote his daughter a message, stating that if a single object had gone missing he'd engage the Bolton family for a Medieval flaying revival.

Of course, there was an immediate answer from Cersei, and a nasty one at that. In capital letters. Tywin shrugged it off. He had made his point and wrote another message to drive the nail home.

"I'm considering to ask my money back from Robert - which would leave you so poor that Robert wouldn't have enough money for his whores anymore. You, Cersei, would have to do your duty again regularly. I repeat: one item lost and..."

 

Of course, it would help nothing to win his daughter over to Sansa's side - but Tywin could see clearly enough that there had never been the slightest chance that this could have come to pass. Eddard Stark had been Robert's friend, which, in its turn, made him and his family Cersei's natural enemies.

Speaking of fat Robert Baratheon. Of course, Tywin had to talk to the king. And though the Lord of Lannister was a royalist in general, he praised the day Westeros had turned into a constitutional monarchy and had taken much of the political power out of the king's hands. This way, foolish Robert couldn't make so many mistakes. Despite everything, however, he had still driven monarchy close to an exitus with his escapades. Bleh. Under the given circumstances, it was good that the Council Head was the political leader now - even if Tywin was no fan of Mace Tyrell. The less than apt man had been able to win the last elections, thanks to his attractive children and thanks to his clever - though crippled - eldest son Willas, who had worked as Mace's spin doctor.

Tywin scratched his nose as he walked down the corridors of the Red Keep. There was too much amiss all around, but he'd do what he'd always done: make the best of it.

 

Robert received him in his solar with a scowl on his face. And a goblet with Dornish sour in his hand.

"I'm surprised to find you here," he greeted his father-in-law. "Shouldn't you be at the Rock?"

"I've had to alter my plans."

"Is the girl with you? And really, how could you do that to her? Don't tell me you haven't manipulated her."

Tywin scoffed.

"The 'girl' is a grown woman. And yes, she's here, as you will have surely heard already. Hers and my relationship is none of your business. Your Grace. What is your business - or could and should be - are the leftovers from Winterfell Enterprises. Have you considered buying any parts?"

 

Robert waved his goblet in the air.

"What would I know about Ned's enterprise? He paid his taxes, and that was that. And I'd be grateful if you could leave me now. I'm grieving for a close friend."

"So close that you know nothing about his business," Tywin snapped. "Let me have a guess - you don't even know who Lord Stark's creditors were, right?"

"We were friends. Not business partners," the king rumbled. "But I believe you wouldn't know the difference, because you don't know what a friend is in the first place."

 

A vein swelled on Tywin's forehead.

"If you were a comepetent business man, you could have helped your friend when his financial problems grew. But I'm not hear to re-play an old card game. I'm here on my wife's behalf. Do you know anything about Lord Stark's demise that hasn't become public yet?"

 

The king poured himself another goblet - without offering Tywin a drink.

"There has been no privacy for Ned since the scandal you and Sansa have triggered off. I hope you're proud of what you've done."

"I - or we - have done little and less. Sansa came to me in disguise to negotiate some support for her father's company. Sadly, Lord Stark had already made too many mistakes himself. For example to trust the wrong employees who'd inform the media."

Tywin waved Baelish's confession under the king's nose.

 

Robert burped and gave it a quick glance.

"That doesn't bring Ned back to life."

"No, it doesn't. But if you knew your late friend's business, you could buy the few profitable tranches now. It would help you as well as the Stark family. And if you knew about your late friend's creditors, it would be easier to assess the chances of Lord Stark having been murdered. Your Grace."

The king hiccupped and looked at him with round, glazed eyes.

"You're not really believing what you're insinuating?"

Tywin harrumphed.

"I'm insinuating nothing. I'm just considering all the possibilities."

Robert was underwhelmed and took another big swig. What a waste of good wine.

"If you want to do some research, feel free to work the Royal Intranet. It's not as if you weren't using it regularly anyway."

 

At that point, Tywin knew that the Hand Chancellor - Tyrion - would be better informed of Eddard Stark's situation than the deceased man's alleged friend.

 _"Can this day get any worse?"_ he thought, grimaced and growled loudly once he had left the king's presence.

He looked at his watch. Sansa was surely still asleep. Time for a quick cucumber sandwich and an espresso. And then, he'd tackle his son.


	24. Lion gathering - ferocious feline fight

Despite everything, Tywin allowed himself a quick peek into his bedchamber - and of course, Sansa was still sleeping (and hedgehog-snoring), just the way he had predicted it. So he left his wife again and made for the Hand's solar. Tywin still knew the way by heart from the times when he had had this post himself. Back in the past, it had still meant more political weight than it did now under King Robert.

 _"Be that as it may,"_ Tywin thought. _"I need to talk to Tyrion now."_

 

When he arrived, he told the bodyguard outside the door to annouce him. A moment later, Tywin entered the solar and found himself face to face with his dwarf son. And with Jaime. Jaime, whose face looked as if he had just eaten a lemon - without cake dough around.

His elder son addressed him at once: "Father, are you mad? What was that stupid wedding supposed to mean? The girl has dated Joffrey! She could be my daughter and your granddaughter! Are you becoming like your ageing father who needed a mistress to feel young again?"

 

Tywin ground his jaws together, and a vein swelled on his forehead.

"The 'girl' is an adult woman now. Probably, she wanted an improvement after her short-term relationship with Joffrey all those years ago. And don't you dare compare me to my father! And Sansa is none like the slut I dragged out of my father's castle after his death."

Tyrion grumbled at that, "Uncharacteristic words from your mouth, father. As if you were FOND of that Stark girl."

 

Tywin snarled back, "The person in question isn't a 'Stark girl', but Lady Lannister, and your step-mother at that. You'll show her the respect she deserves! And if my behaviour looks uncharacteristic to you, it's only because you've never seen me interact with a wife, because you killed my first one when she gave birth to you."

Tyrion puffed and blew up his cheeks, and Jaime growled, "She must be damned good between the sheets if you defend her so."

"Well, YOU certainly didn't defend her from Joffrey. And apart from that - how come that my sons, of all people, a whoremonger and an oathbreaker, turn into moralists? I won't accept such double standards."

 

Tyrion shook his huge head as of he had no words to this. Jaime momentarily seemed to have no witty retort to his statement either.

So Tywin went on, "Think what you want, but you'll accept Sansa's status and behave accordingly. And now, Tyrion: I'm sure you've recently had your wretched little nose in the Royal Intranet to find out more about the Stark family. Who were Eddard Stark's creditors?"

"How about 'please' and 'thank you'?" Tyrion retorted.

"How about answering a simple question?" Tywin countered.

Now it was Jaime who was shaking his head, and Tyrion screwed up his eyes.

 

After a moment, Tyrion uttered, "The last partners of Stark Enterprises were the Boltons - and they turned their shoulders on the company as soon as the scandal broke lose. The creditors were the Freys, the Dornish, and the Iron Bank."

Tywin palmed his face as soon as he heard those names.

"That's like holding a longsword to your neck and running around drunk until you fall into the blade. - Now, Jaime. Find out who the papparazzo was who asked Sansa the crucial question about her father's death at the airport - make sure he never gets a job again."

 

Jaime blinked.

"Father, just in case you've forgotten - we've just had an argument."

"Pah!" Tywin made. "That's nothing new. And we can argue as much as we want, but this is a necessity. A duty. An ORDER. Make sure the Lannisters pay their debts, Jaime. And Tyrion: any news about Eddard Stark's death? His creditors are all able to carry out murder and make it look like an accident. Or like suicide. I'm convinced the car crash didn't happen by chance."

Tyrion lifted an eyebrow.

"There's not much out yet. I've heard there are short marks from the tyres on the street, so Lord Stark must have tried to brake and must have been too late."

 

Tywin's front teeth grazed his lower lip, and he cocked his head.

"That doesn't sound like suicide. All right. That's it for the time being. Now I'll leave you simmering in your disgust."

With a curt nod he indicated their talk was over. Tywin didn't feel the need to stay around his sons any longer than necessary.

 _"Siring a proper heir on Sansa doesn't sound too bad,"_ he couldn't help but think and made back for his private rooms.


	25. Consolation Tywin-style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The image of Tywin carrying Sansa is still on my mind. If anyone of you is into fanart, I'd be infinitely delighted to see a drawing of the sort. :-)

Sansa's instincts noticed someone slip into bed beside her - and her instincts recognised the scent. At once, she huddled closer and wrapped herself around the warm body. There was a hand in her hair and the pad of a thump grazed the pulse point behind her left ear. Sansa purred. She opened her eyes and looked into Tywin Lannister's green-golden ones.

After a fuzzy second, memory set in, and with it came grief and pain.

 

Sansa uttered a sob and pressed her face against her husband's chest.

Above the crown of her head, Tywin spoke, "The concept of mourning a father is beyond me."

Sniffling, Sansa looked up at him and couldn't believe her ears, but the Lord of Lannister had spoken with conviction.

"Wasn't your father a loving one?" she finally asked.

Tywin shrugged.

"He thought he loved his greedy slut of a mistress, I guess. But I'm surprised you're implying your own father was a loving one, given how he let you fall like a hot potato."

 

Sansa stiffened.

"He was wrong there, but he was a good man. I guess he wouldn't have reacted like this if his business situation hadn't made him so desperate. Gods! My behaviour! I'm responsible for his death!"

"Pah!" Tywin made. "Balderdash. Given what I've found out, I'm convinced your father was murdered and that you didn't cause him to kill himself - be it by accident or by his own hand."

 

Sansa sat bolt upright.

"Murder!?" she breathed.

Tywin looked up at her with a calm expression.

"Indeed."

"But... but why would you think such a thing?"

Tywin pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Both his alleged last ally and his creditors are fully capable of arranging an untimely demise in an unobtrusive way."

 

Sansa opened her mouth and wanted to ask her husband how he would know such a thing, but then, she stopped short.

 _"Types the like of him will recognise one another,"_ a tiny but nasty voice murmured inside her head. At once, she pushed the thought aside.

Instead, she asked who her father's... contacts had been.

"The Boltons turned away from your father, thus dealing out the final dagger blow to Winterfell Enterprises. The creditors were the Dornish, the Freys, and the Iron Bank."

 

Those were... meaningful names, even for an unknowing young woman like Sansa.

"Why do you think it was murder?" she asked.

Tywin pressed his fingertips together, thus forming a tent on his chest.

"We can rule out suicide. Your father obviously tried to brake, only it was too late. Had he wanted to kill himself, he'd picked up speed."

Sansa gnawed on her lower lip.

"Sounds logical - but it doesn't mean he didn't have an accident. Perhaps an animal crossed the street. Or he had a heart attack from worries about me and his own situation."

Fresh tears started to stream down her cheeks.

 

At once, her husband shook his had.

"No signs of a wild animal have been mentioned so far. The forensic department will have to uncover the other details. But be that as it may - you must take care of yourself now. It won't bring your father back to life if you succumb to your grief. You've slept all day. Maybe, you're not hungry, but you must eat dinner. Now."

 

With those words, Tywin rose from the bed. He was fully dressed, and his tone indicated he expected Sansa to obey.

When she looked about herself, she realised a servant must have brought in a tray with food while she had been asleep. So she tried to swallow some bites. There was creamy egg salad with mashed potato and gravy; the texture helped her to eat a portion, even if Sansa wouldn't have been able to say whether the dish was tasty or not.

 

After dinner, Tywin worked on his tablet PC and had a video conference with his brother. The business details they talked about were Ghiscari to her. Her heart still raw with grief, Sansa used her own new smartphone and went online.

Her e-mail inbox told Sansa both Jon and her mother had sent her a message. Sansa's heartbeat accelerated as she clicked on the first one.

Jon had written her, "Dear Sansa. I'm forwarding father's last words to me in the attachment. Yours, Jon."

Sansa felt hot and cold at the same time when she clicked on the attachment.

The text there said, "Jon, I hope you have arrived safely at the Wall. When we meet the next time, we have to talk about your mother. With regard to Sansa - I've slowly come to understand she has fallen into the hands of the worst manipulators in Westeros. Otherwise, she wouldn't have behaved  - and behave - the way she does. For the time being, I cannot do anything about it, what with all the problems at Winterfell. I simply sent her her belongings. But we must save Sansa in the not too distant future. I know the Special Wall Squad is neutral, but I assume you will share my opinion. Take care. Your father."

 

Sansa wept, there was no helping it. So her father hadn't really given up on her after all!

Quickly, she clicked on her mother's e-mail to find out more.

However, the e-mail consisted of only one line. No greetings, no title, no nothing.

"Don't. Attend. The. Burial."

 

Sansa's eyes widened. A trembling hand covered her mouth.

Tywin looked over at her, from his screen, frowning.

A strangled noise escaped Sansa's throat. Next, she grabbed the empty food bowl from her dinner and threw up.

 

Within an instant, her husband was at her side and held her head. Afterwards, he handed her a handkerchief.

Sansa's vision was still a blur when she wiped her face, but she noticed he had a quick look at the two e-mails. He uttered a snarl.

"This is the ultimate proof that your bastard brother is the only one in your family with a brain worthy of its denomination."

Sansa threw herself at her husband again and didn't care whether he liked the touch or not.

Above her, she heard Tywin's voice, "I think that this is the very first time I'm being objectified for consolation."

"Please," Sansa begged, croaking. "Just let me hug you."

There was a sigh above her head.

"Suit yourself," her husband growled.

And that she did and held onto him as if it were for dear life. It probably was.


	26. Regaining control and making plans

Later, Sansa was embarrassed she had demanded so much of her husband's attention. After all, she knew he'd only married her to save his business and didn't feel comfortable in emotional situations.

 

To distract herself, Sansa sent Jon a note and thanked him for their father's message. She also wrote she was sorry Jon hadn't got the chance to learn any more details about his mother. And she told her half brother of Tywin's assumptions with regard to their father having been murdered.

No five minutes later, she received another e-mail from Jon.

He didn't refer to her own words and simply wrote, "Since your old mobile has broken down, I'm sending you the family's contact data in the attachment. Take care. Jon."

Sansa thanked him again, and she had never had warmer feelings for Jon than she did now. She felt bad for her never having allowed for a deeper bond to develop between the two of them.

 

After this interlude, Sansa looked at her husband. He was busy on his phone and his tablet PC again. It was no wonder, given how he hadn't taken care of his enterprise personally for days, because he had had to marry her.

Tywin finished another call with a business partner and looked at her.

"Over the last days, we've only reacted to some pressing developments. Now, we need to establish an agenda to be able to conduct things from here."

Sansa didn't know how that would be possible for her in her grief, but on another level she understood the necessity to be pro-active. So she nodded and tried to get a grip on herself.

 

Although it felt like tearing her heart out of her chest, she said, "I don't want to cause another scandal. I won't travel to father's funeral."

Tywin cocked his head and looked at her for a long moment.

Then, he said, "If that's so, I'll contact the High Septon to hold mass for your father here in Baelor's Sept at the same time. King Robert will surely want to attend it, too. I don't think he'll travel to Winterfell either. And you might want to write your father a letter that is buried with him. I've never told anyone... but that's what I did after Joanna's death."

 

Sansa's heart beat faster. It came to her as a surprise that Tywin would talk to her about such a private thing. What was more, the idea appealed to her immensely. At the same time, she was insecure about one thing.

"If mother doesn't want me at Winterfell, she'll probably not even allow a letter."

Thankfully, Tywin's solution to the problem sounded convincing.

"Your mother will not be against a letter from someone else. One of your siblings. Probably that bastard brother of yours. You just have to make sure that your secret letter is inside the closed envelope as well."

 

These words caused Sansa to take her husband's hand and to press it.

"Thank you so much," she whispered, her voice almost failing her.

Tywin arched an eyebrow.

"I must say your gratefulness is most disquieting. I'm not used to people appreciating my genius."

 

Despite her grief, Sansa couldn't help but grin at this arrogance for a heartbeat or two. At the same time, she didn't know what to say to her husband's words, like so often.

After a moment, she asked, "Does your inner genius tell you something else about what we should do in the future, my lord?"

Tywin snorted.

"Looks like we won't be able to avoid the media any time soon. For that reason, I'd like to give a hand-picked journalist an interview that will give our situation a positive spin. Have you checked the social platforms on the Internet? According to Kevan, people are starting to romanticise our relationship in a way that causes my teeth to itch. I'd also like to teach those bastards a lesson."

 

Sansa gaped at her husband.

"Our relationship? ROMANTIC?" she exclaimed.

Tywin winced as if she had slapped him and made a sour face.

"I did carry you out of the airport after all," he emphasised in an indignant voice, and Sansa blushed at the way her words must have come across.

"I know, and you've been truly decent and friendly towards me all this time."

 _"Uh-oh,"_ she thought,  _"this sounds even worse."_

 

Sure enough, a muscle twitched in Tywin's jaw, though otherwise, he retained his self-control.

In a cool voice, he said, "I'll be decent enough to want to fuck you again once your moon blood is over. Speaking of sex - I wouldn't be averse to begetting a lion cub."

Sansa's stomach did a nervous flip.

She started to prattle, "Oh. I see. Why... yes, I can understand that. I mean - I guess you want to have more children since you're not content with how your existing ones have developed. And you're getting old, and I've heard that fertility drops after a certain point, so the sooner we have a baby, the better..."

 _"Nooooooo....,"_ she berated herself and wanted a rabbit hole to swallow her.

Tywin's piercing eyes spoke volumes.

His voice was all cold, biting metal when he said, "Indeed. And I need an heir. I just hope he'll have MY communicative abilities, not yours."

 

Sansa lowered her eyes in shame and thought she deserved this comment.

Then, Tywin went on, "We've also talked about your studies, as you will remember from our conversation aboard the plane to Qarth. Which subject do you wish to continue?"

"Psychology," Sansa peeped.

Her husband cocked his head.

"An acceptable choice. Useful for business, too, though it basically boils down to assessing other people's greed there. Anyway. We'll find you a university with online courses so you'll be able to handle your studies and a baby at the same time."

 

Sansa felt as if she had a lead ingot in her chest. She knew she should be relieved that thanks to her husband so many loose puzzle pieces would fall into place.

Still, she was feeling depressed, and it wasn't only the sadness about her father's death and her family's rejection. It took her a moment to understand her bleak feelings.

She thought,  _"So this is what it feels like to live in a marriage dictated by practical considerations."_

In her childhood, Sansa had always dreamed of a love marriage. Thanks to Joffrey, she had lost that kind of hope. And thanks to Joffrey's grandfather, she now knew she had been right to do so. She wondered how sad her future would be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the heartache.


	27. Shockwaves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I'm referring to book appearances, just in case you're confused about differences in the way Tywin looks.

_"I shouldn't have told her of my letter for Joanna,"_ Tywin thought, feeling grim.  _"Oh, Joanna, what have I done to desecrate your memory so?"_

He didn't sleep well that night - and Sansa didn't either, which was no wonder. She woke up when he had to go to the bathroom around the hour of the wolf, but they didn't talk when he got up.

Tywin stood in front of the mirror and looked at his reflections for a while. He saw the lines of age, the wrinkles at his eyes and neck, the grey in his formerly golden, bushy sideburns, and he looked at the bald skin that had been covered with fair hair when he'd been a young man.

 

With a little hiss at himself he walked over to the water closet and sat down. Here, his age was showing again. Like so many men he needed a little longer to relieve his bladder. That he was in a dark, pensive mood didn't exactly help to speed up things.

 

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Sansa asked, "Tywin, are you all r-?"

She stopped dead in her tracks and gaped at him with his pants down.

Tywin sneered, "Looks like we're truly married now - now that you've found me seeing to my basic needs."

His young wife squealed and flushed bright red.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she called out.

Tywin snorted.

"At least you're a nicer sight than the dream I had before I woke up. In it, Tyrion was shooting me with a medieval crossbow. No wonder I woke up and needed to relieve myself."

For a moment, Sansa's mouth opened and closed, and then, she prattled: "Oh, oh, I guess that's not a good dream, and maybe you should think about it - and anyway, I guess I should be grateful you're a man who sits down, and - GODS! I should turn around!"

 

So Sansa did and fled to their bedroom, her face a rich crimson. Tywin shook his head at her.

Hmmm... if their talk earlier on had already been weird, this bizarre situation topped it all, he couldn't help but think. He finished the task at hand, cleaned himself meticulously, and returned to his wife.

Sansa was abed and showed him her back, pretending to have gone back to sleep. This was so ridiculous that Tywin thought he would have laughed, had he had the faintest sense of humour. As it was, her behaviour rather annoyed him. At the same time, he didn't feel the need to escalate the situation and tried to go back to sleep - although it turned out he wasn't overly successful in that area.

 

The next morning, things deteriorated further when Kevan sent him a message, stating that Cersei and Joffrey were on their way back to King's Landing. Tywin informed Sansa and furrowed his brow when he saw her face turn pale.

 

After breaking their fast, Tywin arranged the mourning service for Eddard Stark in the capital and sent King Robert an official invitation. His sources hadn't come up with any news about the northern Lord's demise yet, which was annoying, given how upset Sansa was.

Apart from that, he had to take care of his enterprise, of course. Several online conferences were necessary. He didn't like it how Highgarden Inc. thrived these days - and seemingly at his own company's cost. Perhaps Tyrion as Hand Chancellor should try to initiate a new tax on plant trade. Roses, for example. Bleh.

 

A couple of hours later, Tywin checked on his wife. She was inactive and brooding. Mourning. Praying, probably.

She looked at him and said in a hollow voice, "I tried to contact my other siblings. Robb wrote back I should leave him in peace. Arya berated me and called me a traitor. Rickon said in a voice message mother has forbidden him to talk to me. Oh Tywin, he sounded so full of pain! Only Bran said he wished he could turn back time and return to before things suddenly broke apart. And that he wished I was in Winterfell to share the sorrow."

 

Tywin looked at Sansa.

"At least you've got one more sibling you can count on. You've got a foot in the family door again, so to speak."

Sansa took his hand, pressed it and thanked him for his encouragement. Tywin shrugged.

"Just a businessman's strategic assessment. By the way - the media interview is in the afternoon. The journalist will meet us here in the Red Keep. Make-up for the cameras at three. Don't say a word; just leave everything to me."

"How do you want to go about it?" Sansa asked.

Tywin lifted an eyebrow and showed his teeth.

"I'll do the most outrageous thing: I'll shock the journalist with the truth. Or at least mostly the truth."

Sansa swallowed hard, and Tywin told her again to remain silent. Only when she nodded did he return to his work.

 

At lunchtime, Cersei arrived at the Red Keep with Joffrey. The two tried to single out Sansa at once, but Tywin had made sure his security men didn't allow the two into the same room like his wife.

After a major hullabaloo on Cersei's and Joffrey's part that reached Tywin's ears at once, his daughter decided to attack him. She swept into his solar, bristling and spitting like the angry lioness she was.

"FATHER!" she exploded. "What do you think you're doing!?"

"At the moment, I'm writing Lord Westerling an e-mail about some investments."

Cersei rolled her eyes and actually frothed at the mouth. In this very moment, she didn't look beautiful.

"You know exactly what I mean! How could you marry this daft little slut? She was Joffrey's girlfriend once! Since when are you interested in his leftovers?"

 

Tywin stiffened. His voice was deadly calm when he spoke.

"If Joffrey was stupid enough to let her go, it reveals his own shortcomings, not Sansa's. And since she was single when she came to me, I don't care what you or others may think. And you'll not call her 'slut' again, or I'll demand all my money back from Robert - and you know what that would mean for you and your children."

Despite her wrath, Cersei shuddered at the mere idea.

Yet, she also screeched, "You're turning into Tytos 2.0, do you know that? An old dodderer losing himself to a manipulative, greedy whore -"

"24 hours," Tywin cut in. "That's the timespan you've got to apologise. In front of your husband and the family. Including Sansa. Otherwise, I'll officially demand my money back from Robert."

Cersei blinked and gaped at him for a moment.

"You're mad! You're not serious!" she spat.

"I'm the most serious man in Westeros," Tywin answered. "23 hours and 59 minutes."

Cersei pivoted around and whooshed out of the room with a contorted, red face.

 

Later that day, Tywin met Sansa in the library where the interview would take place. The TV crew had already arrived, and a make-up stylist was preparing Sansa. The interviewer was trying to wrangle some first, private comments off Sansa, but thankfully, Sansa just looked at him with a nondescript face and didn't make a peep. It was the only reason for Tywin not to bash in the other man's face.

The interviewer noticed him, tensed, got up, forceda smile onto his handsome face, and held out his hand.

"Lord Lannister! Good afternoon! Thank you for the opportunity to shed some light on this whole affair, which has dominated the media for days now. My name is Lyn Corbray."

"I know who you are," Tywin answered and didn't even look at the outstretched hand, even less take it. "We'll start to talk when the interview begins."

 

The man tensed even more, and Tywin felt smug - only he schooled his features so as not to show it.

At three o'clock sharp, the cameras started. Sansa was sitting primly at Tywin's side, her face an unreadable mask.

Lyn Corbray turned to greet the audience, then addressed Tywin and Sansa.

"Now please tell our interested watchers: when did the two of you fall in love?"

Tywin simply answered, "Never." He sensed the tiniest wince on the Sansa's part. Coldly, he went on, "We decided to marry, because it was the sensible thing to do."

 

It was interesting to watch Lyn Corbray stare at him with his mouth hanging open for a moment, until the man stammered: "Sen... sensible? But you carried..." He coughed. "Aha. But why was it sensible to marry Sansa Stark?"

Tywin snorted and looked down his nose at the man. And the camera conveyed his stance onscreen, of that he could be sure.

"Sansa Stark came to me in disguise to negotiate a possible business support for Winterfell Enterprises. Then, media people like you were led up the garden path by a man who faked a frivolous contract. I've got his written confession he wanted to damage the Stark family, just in case you want to know."

 

Lyn Corbrey's eyes bulged, but Tywin simply went on mercilessly.

"However, the damage was already done. Winterfell Enterprises imploded. The media branded Sansa Stark as a traitor and a loose woman. Her family cast her out. She had no place to turn to and society would have shunned her. The media had shattered her life to a million pieces. It was the only decent way to help her reestablish a certain position."

The interviewer blinked.

"This is a fake marriage?"

Tywin rolled up his eyes as if Lyn Corbray were retarded - which he probably was, Tywin thought with in inward sneer.

"Of course it is not!" he emphasised. "My wife and I decided to go down a certain route, and we're both taking our roles very seriously. As anyone knows, family is very important for both of us, and we both appreciate liability. Last but not least, my new wife's good character is above even the smallest reproach. In contrast to many other people, she is an upright person."

That was the exact image Tywin wanted to create of himself as a business person. Sansa's good reputation would be a positive bonus.

"I see," Lyn Corbray muttered feebly.

Tywin just stared him down and went on, "I should add that - despite of what the media said - Lord Stark realised before his death that his daughter was not a traitor. We've received according proof. Sadly, a reconciliation wasn't possible because of Lord Stark's death."

 

At that moment, Sansa's hand touched Tywin's, and he quickly pressed her fingers.

_"Let the rabble know my wife and I are partners,"_ he thought with grim determination.

He concluded into Lyn Corbray's direction, "As you can see, none of this drama would have happened if the people from the press hadn't swallowed the bait and jumped down the wrong rabbit hole to shred an innocent woman's life. And other peoples' lives. I don't want to know how many futures the media destroyed by ensuring Winterfell Enterprises went bankrupt."

Tywin could see how Lyn Corbray was trying to find some words to save his profession - only there was no adequate response he came up with in that moment. So all the man could do was to tuck the tail between his legs and run. Interesting how quickly an interview could come to an end. The last thing Tywin did while the cameras were still on air was to gave Sansa a calculated peck on her temple - all the while being conscious of the shockwaves that were reverberating in the Seven Kingdoms at this point.

He had the public exactly where he wanted to have it, of that he was convinced.


	28. Tactics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got no time at all these days. I fear I'll pay with lack of sleep tonight, but I had to get this chapter out of my system...

The next day, Sansa knew there was an uproar in the media – as well as an uproar in society. The first couple of unemployed people who were affected by Winterfell Enterprises crashing were announcing to sue the morning show that had first come up with the Sansa Stark scandal.

Sansa herself only listened to these news with half an ear. The same was true for all the people who dubbed hers and Tywin's marriage a "romance of convenience", or who labelled them both as "rational romatics". She could only shake her head at so much ignorance – but having experienced the scandal first, she wasn't even surprised anymore.

 

What _did_ surprise her was a dinner with the Lannister family and the king – and Queen Cersei grinding out an apology in her direction. Tywin's daughter looked as if she had concentrated lemon juice in her veins, instead of blood, so Sansa knew the words didn't leave the woman's lips of her own volition.

Over dinner, Tywin seemed to be the only one who was unmoved by the weird family arrangement. He ate with a hearty appetite, though his portion was still half the size of King Robert's. Nor did he care much about Ser Jaime's and Lord Tyrion's judging side glances. He also ignored Joffrey's glum stares and pouts. Sansa was willing to bet on the lions waiting for the family patriarch to make for the bathroom to fall on her and to turn her to shreds – only Tywin didn't drink any more than one glass of wine and didn't do his family the favour of leaving his young bride alone.

 _"He knows exactly what he's doing,"_ Sansa realised and couldn't help but marvel at how her husband was able to maste – and to dominate – any given situation. She herself didn't make a peep all evening, apart from telling Tyrion that due to her grief she wasn't really able to maintain a decent conversation.

 

Over the next days, Sansa continued to confer with Bran via messenger at irregular intervals. It was her brother who told her that the pathologists had found tranquilisers in Eddard Stark's blood.

Bran added, "Mother says father has been wont to take this sort of medicine of late. That his sorrows had weighed him down to an extent he couldn't sleep. She's also told the police the same. Now... while I know mother wouldn't lie to me, I don't know what to make of it all. I don't believe that father would have taken tranquilisers and would have driven a car afterwards, responsible as he was. Mother believes father to have been in an extreme situation, which he surely was; so according to her, it would all have been somewhere in between an accident and a half-hearted suicide attempt he lost control of. As you know, Sansa, she blames you for it all. Only... maybe, I'm just a clueless teenager, but her version of the story can't convince me. Stay strong, big sister!"

Sansa cried when she read those words, and she thought Bran to have reached a level of wisdom that was remarkable for his age – especially in comparison to the naivety she had shown herself on meeting Lord Lannister for the first time.

 

Considering her husband, Sansa was emotionally torn. Even before her moon blood subsided, she started to feel the urge to sleep with him again. She didn't understand her need and reprimanded herself.

_"How can I desire him? I'm mourning father! I can't feel lust under these circumstances!"_

Only her body told her otherwise, and soon enough, she couldn't help herself.

 

One night, she sensed Tywin slip into bed beside her, and she woke from an early slumber. On instinct, she wrapped her arms around his body, and her hands dived under the fabric of his dark blue satin pyjama to roam the warm skin she found there.

At the crown of her head he growled, "You're mighty clinging for a woman who doesn't want to be married to me."

Sansa blushed in the dark.

"Tywin, you're the only one I can turn to. You may not be a... a loving man, but I can't live without a measure of warmth in my life. I mean to wrench every ounce of love from you I can get."

 

As soon as her words had left her lips, Sansa knew them to be true, which caused her to blush even more.

Tywin blew the air through his nose.

"If I had a hare's heart, I 'd be running to the hills now. Zigzag and at top speed. As it is, I'm just surprised you're even considering to get ounces from me. Though you could easily get ounces of something else from me."

 

Sansa grimaced. At the same time, she thought that this was probably the most positive reaction she could expect to get from her husband.

 _"He's known love before, everyone says he's loved his first wife,"_ she mused. _"Then why is he so averse to emotional warmth? Has he forgotten? Or has he wanted to forget? Perhaps, I've got to remind him. Or_ _to_ _even teach him."_

Sansa had already learned Tywin to be most inclined to accepting a caress if it was in the context of passion. So she resolved to create this context as often as possible to rein him in – although her conscience tormented her with new pangs regarding her grief. Still, she had to admit that her needs were in line with her plans.

 

So she allowed her hands to wander, to trace and to explore every inch of her husband – and soon, her mouth followed suit. In no time, she had her husband in the state she had had in mind. What she still lacked in experience, she evened out with devotion. In the end, she was astonished at how quickly it ended. At how quickly she had Tywin in groans and spasms. And there was no denying she liked his taste.

Afterwards, the lay in bed together. As Sansa had predicted, Tywin allowed her to embrace him and to snuggle up to him, and she sensed a minimum of peace in her heart. It was the first time since her father's death that she felt something like hope - though she wouldn't have been able to pinpoint what she was actually hoping for.


	29. Realisations

For the better time of the week, Sansa stayed in their wing at the Red Keep. She didn't want to see anyone, least of all Cersei and Joffrey - and Tywin's security guards ensured nobody disturbed her. Sansa needed time to finally process everything that had come to pass since she had left Winterfell.

 

Most of the time, her husband was busy with online and real life meetings, or with phone calls and writing and reading e-mails. He was still the leader of a big company after all.

Sansa understood him and didn't mind she was left to her own devices more often than not. She did some yoga to keep fit, she read her psychology books from university, she conversed with Bran and Jon via mail... and she needed her time for praying and contemplation.

Of course, she thought a lot of her father, and the fond memories as well as the dramatic events of the recent past caused her to cry time and again. Yet, her thoughts also kept meandering away, and inevitably, she ended up musing her new situation. Would she be able to fulfil the role of the Lady of Lannister? The feminine leader of Casterly Rock? The mere idea sounded surreal, to say the least.

 

What Sansa found most astonishing was that she actually liked spending time with her husband. That she sort of liked the man himself. She liked his body, although under normal circumstances, she shouldn't and likely wouldn't have found him attractive at all. He was so much older, and it showed. Of course, his skin didn't resemble the one of a young man. There were wrinkles and pigmented moles here and there, the flesh wasn't like carved marble anymore, and his hair was more grey than golden.

And yet, Sansa enjoyed ogling his physique. Tywin was lean and and still muscled and in better shape than many young men.

It caused Sansa to blush, but it did give her both pride and enjoyment to be on intimate terms with him. Maybe, Tywin wasn't hung like a giant, but the extreme members she'd seen in Robb's porn films had rather frightened her than turned her on. Sansa found her husband perfectly equipped for her own body. No wonder she wrapped her legs around him once her moon blood was over. She sobbed in sheer relief when he obliged and slid into her.

 

Tywin always found her sensitive spots and knew how to drive her nuts with need. Soon enough, she'd beg him for mercy... and would still be grateful when he granted her none and prolonged their tumble until her muscles were trembling with the need to climax. And when Sansa came, the explosion was like the one of a supernova that consumed her and momentarily seemed to turn her to dust.

To witness Tywin find his own fulfilment was beautiful to behold as well. The way his jaws tightened and the muscles of his body stiffened. The way he sweated and moaned, unable to camouflage his own bliss where he was usually such a controlled person. Stranger still - sleeping with this man was soothing and comforting afterwards.

_"It's the opposite of anything Joffrey would have ever liked. Tywin is intent on causing me lust. He desires to play my body like a piano."_

Once Sansa came to this conclusion, she thought there could be worse marriages than one where the focus was on passion. She only had to think of her husband's earthy masculine scent, and her core started to pulsate.

 _"I'm getting addicted to him,"_ she thought - and then, she found the process was mutual, given how obviously her husband craved her body. _"Only... what about other men? Would I react similarly to someone else? I can't imagine desiring anyone else!"_

 

And it was true. Oh, sure, Sansa had had crushes on different men... but whenever she thought of those now, she couldn't imagine doing what she did with Tywin. Not at all. The mere idea gave her the creeps. Especially when it came to Joffrey. How could the grandson be so much worse than the grandfather? And the grandfather was far from being a do-gooder to begin with - Sansa couldn't make herself believe otherwise, no matter the sexual attraction she was experiencing.

 

Interestingly enough, Tywin wasn't as bad as other people believed him to be either. At least when it came to Sansa herself. He helped her enroll at a different university where she could take online classes and would only have to physically attend the written exams at the end of each semester.

In addition to that, Tywin confered with the High Septon about her father's mourning service in the capital, but her husband left all the actual decisions to Sansa. He just saw to it that her wishes would be carried out. The fact that he didn't criticise Sansa once gave her the feeling that she was meeting his - surely high - standards on how such a public event should take place. It gave Sansa the impession that Tywin's silence on the matter meant more than when her mother had lauded her for doing something in a ladylike way in the past.

 _"He respects me, as far as he's able to respect anyone. Oh my. Tywin is becoming important for me,"_ Sansa came to understand. _"And in ways so different from the ones I expected at the beginning."_

The question remained whether she was becoming equally important for him. Likely not. Sansa was the pupil and Tywin was the instructor if one wanted to use this metaphor. Tywin was the independent one of the two of them. The experienced one. Sansa was realistic about this aspect.

Then why couldn't she help develop the notion that at least the tiniest fraction of Tywin Lannister was already hers?


	30. Farewell and welcome

The driver took them to the Sept of Baelor in a black-windowed limousine. Tywin thought that mourning garb didn't become his wife, but of course she had to wear it on this day. And if the drab colours made her look unnaturally pale, this was desirable, because the journalists would have ample proof of her grief. Of course, squads of security men had cleared the space in front of the sept so that the rabble wouldn't come too close.

 

In front of them was the limousine with the king. Sansa had decided Robert should enter the sept first, and Tywin agreed that it was a sensible decision, for various reasons. Behind Sansa's and Tywin's vehicle was another one with Tyrion and the royal offspring. On entering the cars, Joffrey had made a show of his decision to wear bright, colourful clothes.

Tywin had wanted to drag the lad back to his chambers by his spiky wet look hair, but Sansa had simply taken Tywin's hand and had murmured into his ear, "I don't care what he's wearing. He wants to be pathetic in public? Let him be."

Tywin's fingers were still itching, but there was simply no time left to alter anything, so he let the matter rest.

 

The inside of the sept was decorated with blue roses imported from the North. Tywin nodded to himself, because the balance between style and effect was to his taste. Sansa's decisions showed that she had potential and was already starting to explore it.

 _"About time, having become the Lady of Lannister,"_ he thought.

 

Mass itself was boring for Tywin since he wasn't a religious man - but if he had learned one thing, it was to let tedious things pass and still look impressive. He always had his mind to turn to where he could plot and scheme while he was listening to devout babbling with half an ear. He also tried to hear around the sniffles at his side. At least King Robert didn't fart. Tywin wouldn't have bet on on the monarch's beviour in that respect.

 

When the ceremony was over, Tywin walked up to the High Septon and thanked him in a businesslike tone for his words during mass. They also exchanged a few words about the following mourning banquet at the Red Keep. Naturally, the High Septon would be an honoured guest at the table.

 

Afterwards, they returned to the castle. Sansa excused herself for a moment to their private quarter to refresh herself. Tywin followed her, because at least for once he could do without an extra ration of tension between himself and his family.

Or, to put it more frankly: Sansa's presence was more agreeable. Especially if he was able to get through with his plans. He hadn't fucked his wife on the previous evening, because her mood had been to bleak in the face of the upcoming ceremony at the Sept of Baelor. Now that it was over, Tywin meant to enjoy Sansa's body. And to give her something to think of while she'd have to endure his family during the banquet.

 

Sansa sighed on entering their suite.

"The High Septon carried out the service well, didn't he?" she asked.

Tywin uttered a noncomittal murmur.

Sansa stood in front of the vanity table with a high mirror set in gold, and gazed at her complexion. Her backside looked inviting. Tywin positioned himself behind his wife, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed himself against her. In the mirror, he could see her eyes bulge when she noticed his cock was hard and at the ready.

 

"Tywin!" she exclaimed. "You can't be serious! Now, of all times?"

Tywin purred and murmured into her ear, "I do have a feeling you need to feel alive. We don't have much time, but when Joffrey behaves the way he normally does during dinner you can always remember my greedy cock sliding in and out of your wet, quivering cunt. I'll certainly do the same. It'll help me to refrain from closing the boy's mouth with a stapler."

Sansa gasped in shock at first, then tried to suppress a giggle.

 

Without further ado, Tywin opened his trousers, freed his twitching shaft, lifted Sansa's skirt, and pulled down her string tanga. Had she been wearing this piece of nothing for him? Whatever.

"Lean forward," he ordered and rubbed his cock against her folds.

Sansa gasped once more. She wasn't quite wet yet, but quickly getting there. So Tywin positioned himself at her entrance and pushed into her. She welcomed him in with a shudder and a sigh.

"Aaaah," he growled contentedly. Really, her little cunt was hot and tight and perfect for his needs.

Sansa mewled, and Tywin thought his wife was showing first signs of turning into a feline. How long would it take to turn her into a proper lioness then? Who knew.

 

In and out he slid at a steady pace, and there were wet little noises to be heard with each thrust. That they could watch themselves in the mirror did a lot to intensify the sensations. Tywin also nipped at the neck of his wife as if he wanted to mark her.

He allowed them five glorious minutes. Then, he pulled out.

Sansa turned around, thinking he'd want to take her from the front now. Her face when she saw him stuff his hard, throbbing shaft back into his trousers made up for at least a fraction of his pain.

 

"Tywin! What are you doing?" she demanded to know.

"See it as an appetiser," Tywin answered. "You were right. We don't have any more time. We've got to go to the banquet now. And when we return, we'll fuck out our need on each other."

"Please -," Sansa started, but Tywin was already turning away to the door.

Ah, how he'd hunger for her in the two or three hours to come! However, Tywin knew that Sansa would be starving even more now, given how far she had already been. He envisioned her empty, desperate cunt and nearly came into his trousers like a green boy. Quickly, he strutted to the throne room, Sansa in his wake. He did notice how wobbly her legs were - but only _he_ knew it wasn't grief  that caused her to shak eat this moment.

 

Tywin and Sansa remained rather quiet while they were eating and left the talking to the other family members. Thankfully, loud, coarse King Robert spoke enough for both of them, and he and Cersei were insolent enough to have a major quarrel while they were eating.

That way, everyone was distracted so nobody noticed it when Sansa placed a hand on Tywin's still formidable bulge under the table. Tywin cursed his wife a little minx inwardly and vowed to himself he'd fuck her senseless as soon as possible.

Sansa seemed to be able to read his mind. Soon, she pressed her trembling fingers against her temple and announced she was suffering from a headache. Tywin seized the chance and decided for them to retire. Tyrion shot them quizzical looks, but was clever enough to save his tongue and not to make a comment.

 

No sooner had Tywin and Sansa reached their wing than they fell on each other. Even before they reached the bedroom door they had already made short work of their shoes, and their clothes were half out. In the wild tumble that ensued, Tywin only lasted for a few thrusts - but he stayed inside his wife and fucked her with his soft member as best he could while rubbing her nub with his fingers. Sansa exploded with hollow moans and a shriek. Even then, Tywin stayed where he was and bid his time.

After an hour, he had recovered, and they started a second round. Now, they took their sweet time and Tywin thought that with age he had become patient enough to last long if he wanted to, and to turn their fucks into memorable events. Gods, this was good! They both moaned and didn't hold back while taking lust to a new level. It took so long they both became sore - and still, they weren't ready to stop.

At long last, they did allow themselves an exquisite second peak. Afterwards, Sansa didn't even get as far as to roll off of him, so fast did she fall asleep. Tywin cupped her buttocks and knew the next morning would be painful for both of them - but it had been totally worth it. He had to admit he hadn't felt so satisfied in decades.


	31. Contemplations

When Tywin woke up at night, Sansa's head was resting on his shoulder and her warm breath grazed his skin. Further down, her leg pressed down on his full bladder.

_"Why would she want to keep touching me like that? Why would anyone be so intent on touching? Sure, she's lost the greater part of her family, one way or another. And maybe, she feels lonely. But I've been on my own for decades after Joanna's death, and I've never fondled someone the way she does."_

It was a mystery Tywin didn't understand. The way Sansa looked at him... It was so different from Joanna's gaze. He and Joanna had been on the same level. Sansa, however... there were details in her behaviour that reminded Tywin of Kevan.

_"She looks up at me. She's one of very few people who don't feel the need to flee when they have to be around me. And she appreciates my competence, as far as her limited insight allows her to do so."_

 

Of course, the main difference between her and Kevan was the aspect of intimacy. Again, Tywin couldn't help but compare Sansa and Joanna in that field.

He had to concede that sex was different these days from what he had experienced in the distant past. There was an angle of consciousness to it that hadn't been there during his first marriage. With Joanna, Tywin had been as carefree as he could possibly be, serious man that he was. Nowadays, Tywin knew the pain of losing someone. The enjoyment of being with a wife was something he couldn't take for granted anymore. Besides, his body had changed with time, simple as that. Though he did pride himself that he obviously still had the necessary strength to satisfy a young woman with a healthy appetite.

 

 _"Damn, my cock hurts,"_ he thought.  _"Sore as if it had been in the seven hells, not in the seven heavens."_

His protesting bladder didn't help one whit to make things more agreeable.

With his free hand, he combed through Sansa's auburn tresses. His wife stirred.

 

"Tywin?" she mumbled. "Are you all right?"

"You must have been sleeping on my arm for a while, because I can't feel it anymore. And if I stay in bed any longer, we'll end up with a yellow puddle on the mattress."

 

Sansa squeaked and rose at once, apologising like an overstrung chicken.

Tywin uttered the faintest hiss when the blood started to circulate in his second arm again. He got to his feet and went to the bathroom. Once his water started to flow, he allowed himself a sigh, and his thoughts meandered away.

 

_"So far, things have been easier for me than for her in this affair. But now, things will be getting trickier. She'll have to be at my side on official occasions, and the big bastards will all see her as the weak link in my business. For good reasons. There's nothing more dangerous than a cocktail party. I have to prepare Sansa as best I can."_

 

 

Tywin also thought of Lord Stark's death.

When he returned to the bedroom and slipped into bed again, he said to his wife, "I've been mulling things over. I'm still convinced your father was murdered, and I firmly believe it happened with the tranquilisers. Your father may have been wont to take them of late, but he must have been given an extra dose before he took the steering wheel of his car into his hands. Now. I've tried to assess the different possible culprits. Roose Bolton let your father fall when our scandal became public. He sort of stuck the dagger into the backbone of Winterfell Enterprises. But while I do think he's got the soul of a traitor, I don't think drugs are his handwriting."

"What about Baelish then?" Sansa asked.

Tywin harrumphed.

"Gregor Clegane has taken care of the man. He's in no position to do anything to anyone for the next, say,... six months. If he's got excellent doctors."

 

Tywin noticed Sansa shudder and distracted her quickly.

"The next ones on my list are the Freys. They are devious weasel-faced folks and utterly capable of murder if you ask me. But. They keep wanting to show how important and influential they are - far beyond their actual station. Now. They can't officially take the credits for murdering your father. They couldn't even do it unofficially. We're not in the Middle Ages anymore where you could get away with committing such a deed and being able to boast about it without having to fear the police on your doorstep. So my point is that murdering your father in secret wouldn't cater enough to their pride and wouldn't satisfy their needs. Take it from someone who knows a thing or two about pride."

 

Sansa sighed.

"How about the Iron Bank then?"

Tywin nodded.

"Those people would be thoroughly capable of sending a Faceless Man. I'm just not sure... You see: they won't get their money back anyway. Neither your mother nor your brother have got a chance to revive the business. Then why kill your father? As a deterrent for others? I doubt it. You might lose potential customers if word gets round that the financial transactions may well turn out lethal."

 

So Sansa concluded herself, "You think that the Dornish are responsible for father's death?"

Tywin shrugged.

"They've always been secretive, and they've dabbled with poisons of all sorts. Perhaps they felt insulted, because you contacted ME for help, of all people. As you may know, the Dornish and the Lannisters have been enemies for decades. Our scandal could have added an emotional note to their substantial financial losses."

 

Sansa shook her head.

"You've got no proof for this, have you?"

"None at all. We'll probably never find the slightest trace to prove my theory. The Dornish would be clever enough to carry out the perfect crime."

Sansa bit her lip.

Next, she said, "When I left, there were no Dornish people at Winterfell. They'd have had no direct access to my father's medicine."

Tywin scratched his nose.

"They could have bribed or blackmailed someone into doing the dirty job for them."

Sansa shook her head again.

"You must be on the wrong track," she emphasised.

"It's possible, of course," Tywin answered. "However, I make few mistakes."

 

He sensed Sansa was still disbelieving, and he understood that any further mental fuckery didn't help. So he changed the topic.

"Be that as it may. By the way, we need to talk about a more concise topic. Kevan and I have been conferring about our return to Lannisport. He needs me back at the headquarters. Ready yourself to return to the Rock in two days from now."

Sansa placed her chin onto his chest.

"Oh, I'm looking forward to it. King's Landing isn't my favourite place."

"Why do I have a feeling that this has a lot to do with my relatives?" Tywin asked.

"Indeed, my lord - why would you possibly have such a feeling?" Sansa replied, and Tywin got the impression that his wife was shedding a layer of naivety. And while he new that such a development was both necessary and desirable, he did also feel the tiniest whiff of melancholy.

 


	32. Planning ahead

_"They could have bribed or blackmailed someone into doing the dirty job for them."_

Unbidden, Tywin's exact words replayed in her mind when she perused her e-mails the next day and read a message from Bran that informed her Hodor had found Theon in the Godswood. Dangling down from the Heart Tree. The police had come, but sadly, it had rained all night. Moreover, in his panic Hodor had trampled the earth with his big feet. Any possible sign that could have revealed Theon's death hadn't been suicide had been destroyed. The constablers had found a printed recent e-mail in which Balon Greyjoy had written he had disinherited his son. So everyone believed that Theon had killed himself. 

 

The news caused Sansa to cry again. Theon had been like a brother for her. She didn't know the true background of his and her father's death. And maybe, Tywin was still wrong, and she was jumping to false conclusions. But whether Theon had been involved in Lord Stark's lethal car crash one way or another - it didn't count inasmuch as her heart told her she had lost yet another person she had loved.

 

After a while, however, she reached a decision.

_"I've always been interested in my psychology studies. Now, I know what I want to do with them. I want to work for the police. I want to help them uncover the truths behind crime cases. And I want to find out what has happened to father and Theon. Of course, I'm not neutral here, but I knew them as well as one possibly could. That must account for something, too. And if necessary, I've got a lifetime to find out what has happened. I don't want petty vengeance, I won't lynch them, but if the Dornish are truly behind all of this, I'll bring them to justice."_

Of course, Sansa knew that the job of real profilers wasn't as dramatic as films and mystery series wanted to have it. In that way, it was the same like the romanticised portrayal of medical staff on TV. But Sansa was rather glad her profiling job would be more down to earth. Hunting down other people personally would suit Arya's personality better than her own one's.

The bigger problem was that her husband would certainly try to forbid her such a kind of job. It wasn't representative enough.

Ah, but for now, Tywin didn't need to know of her plans yet. Sansa was convinced that her husband kept manipulating her into a direction he wanted. That he had done so from the very start. It was the way he ticked.

Oh, she found she could live with it since she knew it was part of his personality. And if he thought it was his right to behave like that, Sansa wouldn't have any qualms to keep a little secret from him from time to time. Or to adapt the tune he was playing. Apart from that, it would be years from now before the topic of choosing a job would become truly important for her. She still had so many courses to study and exams to take.

 _"And I want a baby first,"_ she thought. Life always had to come before death, Sansa felt. And while she wanted to hunt down the people responsible for her father's - and probably Theon's - death she also wanted to build up an own life from the ruins the media scandal had left her in. She had to take care of her past, of justice, what have you... but she also needed to take care of herself. That much egoism she had already learned from her husband, she guessed.

 

With quick, determined strides, Sansa walked from the living room in her suite to Tywin's solar. The Lord of Lannister was busy at his desk reading some official-looking letters. Sansa positioned herself behind his chair and kissed the nape of his neck.

Without looking up, Tywin said, "I've instructed the pilot to take us home to Lannisport tomorrow at three o'clock P.M."

"I see," Sansa said.

Finally, Tywin turned towards her.

"The king has learned of our impending departure. He means to throw us a farewell banquet tonight to have an excuse for his alcohol consumption. You do have an evening dress for the occasion, have you?"

Sansa breathed in and out.

"Tonight, I'll have one. Some high-cut black dress. Fit for mourning. Elegant, but nothing revealing."

Tywin gave her a curt nod.

"If my son-in-law wants to stare at  a young woman's cleavage, he should better turn elsewhere."

Sansa knew better than to comment on the rumours about King Robert's infidelity. Of course, she hadn't heard much of late since Tywin's bodyguards were all taciturn, discrete, efficient men, and she had been busy with other topics, but she did remember what she had learned back in the past when she had had a crush on Joffrey.

 

Quickly, she pushed the memory aside and rubbed her face against Tywin's nape of his neck. Sansa found it was a step into the right direction that he accepted the caress without tensing.

"I'll give out orders to organise a fitting dress for me," she told her husband.

Tywin looked at her again and lifted an eyebrow.

"You don't want to go to Tailors' Street?"

Sansa shook her head.

"Theon Greyjoy is dead. Alleged suicide. I've just learned the news from Bran. I'm not in the mood for shopping."

Tywin looked at her, and though they didn't exchange any words, they had a meaningful conversation with their eyes.

 

Back in their private rooms, it occurred to Sansa she had never had someone who she could speak to without talking, at least no human. Lady had probably been the only exception. But otherwise...

 _"Tywin Lannister - a soulmate?"_  Sansa thought.  _"No, that's impossible. Not a man like him."_

But no matter how intensely she tried to negate the idea, Sansa had finally to concede that there was something special about hers and Tywin Lannister's relationship - and here, she was not referring to the age gap.


	33. What an evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may look as if Tywin is changing, and that notion is certainly right. At the same time, however, he's also taking arseholism to a completely new level. ;-)

In the evening, they changed for the royal farewell banquet. No sooner had Tywin seen his wife stripped down to her underwear than he felt the need for more intimacies. The problem was that his cock was still sore and wouldn't do him the favour of playing along. That was a nuisance, of course, but it didn't deter Tywin.

"Here I am," he said, "having lived more than half a century - and only now am I discovering a sense for naughtiness. You're bringing that out in me, Sansa, and I'd have never expected such a side would exist within me."

 

Blinking, Sansa turned towards him. It was what Tywin had just waited for, and he cupped her breasts.

She gasped, "We can't repeat this weird form of coitus interruptus!"

Tywin blew out the air threw his nose.

"I've got something else in mind."

 

His thumbs circled her rosy nipples, and his wife arched into him. Quickly, Tywin flipped Sansa onto the bed and started to feast on her breasts. His licking and sucking earned him whimpers and throaty moans, so he continued his course of action with abandon.

Suddenly, Sansa squealed and trembled in a telltale way.

Tywin looked up, his brow furrowed.

"What was that?" he asked.

Sansa looked up at him with glassy bedroom eyes. Then, she knitted her brows as well.

"I... I've come. But you've just... That's possible?"

 

Tywin had heard before that a woman could sometimes peak from getting her breasts stimulated, but he had always believed it to be an urban myth, or a whore's competent mimicry. Sansa, however, was above feigning such an occurrence since she still lacked enough experience to fool him.

So he simply arched an eyebrow and growled, "As you can see. Let's go on."

After that, he parted her legs and went on with his mouth before she could even react. His wife was sopping wet and still trembling from her first orgasm. Until he had got to know Sansa, Tywin had never appreciated this outrageous kind of activity and had thus never applied it to the whores he had ordered for his namedays. But the way he was able to make Sansa delirious with lust with his lips and tongue and teeth was a thing of of unique beauty, and he allowed himself to relish her cries and sobs and tremors. He only needed a few minutes until she exploded a second time.

Afterwards, he looked at her sweaty, exhausted form and felt mighty accomplished.

 

Suddenly, Tywin realised he was still up to some other sort of mischief. Never before had he felt something like that, not even as a youngster. He had never played tricks on others for fun, only ever for punishing them and for gaining a personal advantage.

Around Sansa things were different. Tywin barely recognised himself and didn't even feel his ever-burning bone-deep aggression for once. It left him disoriented - but also curious. He wondered how the evening would proceed under such preconditions.

 

After the erotic interlude, they had to make haste to dress adequately and to arrive at the king's banquet punctually.

When they arrived in front of the throne room, they paused for the briefest moment. Sansa looked at him... and smoothed down his sideburns and his tie.

"You look fantastic," she said.

"Of course I do. Such official appointments are where I feel most at home," he murmured back.

Then, he noticed his eldest grandson from the corners of his eyes. The lad was obviously spying on them. Without looking at Joffrey directly, Tywin resolved to drive his nail home. Thus, the Lion of Lannister did the unspeakable: he smiled at his wife, took her gloved hand, and kissed it.

It gave Tywin a triumphant feeling when he hard a strangled sound from where his grandson stood. What was even better was that Sansa's eyes lit up until they were radiant like the sun. She rose onto her toes and placed a quick peck on his lips.

They gazed at one another. Then, Tywin took her arm, placed it on his own one, and led her into the throne room.

 

The official dinner unfolded in a predictable way. King Robert and Tyrion drank too much, and by the second course, Cersei was into her second goblet of wine, too.

That was when her daughter leaned over the table and addressed Sansa.

"I hope you don't think you could ever assume my mother's position. She was a grand lady. No-one could ever replace her."

Under normal circumstances, Tywin would have snapped something cruel at his daughter for mentioning Joanna and for insulting Sansa, but he bid his time and waited for his wife's reaction.

 

Sansa blinked. Her eyes widened.

She stammered, "Why... I'd never dream of such a thing. Why would I possibly want to be your mother?"

Tywin looked at his daughter and had to bite his lip for a moment. Never before in his life had he felt such a need to burst out laughing.

Cersei paled, then turned red with anger.

"The insolence of it! Don't fool yourself into ever believing our father will trust you."

Sansa continued to look positively confused.

"Why - of course he doesn't trust me. Tywin trusts nobody. Just in my case he simply knows I could never betray him. That's a difference."

 

At that moment, Joffrey had the nerve to comment, "Pah! You'd never betray him? Like you didn't betray your family?"

Sansa cocked her head.

"Of course I didn't betray them. I never betray the people I love."

 

Utter silence ensued. Tywin had the weird feeling he had ants in his intestines.

To regain control, he coughed into his hand and said, "Ah, don't be angry with my wife. These are just Sansa's candid ways. You see, she's also told me she doesn't want to be married to me. Streak of intelligence if you ask me. Oh, and we've already decided that our first-born will rather inherit my communication skills than hers."

Sansa blushed and nodded.

"Yes! And that shouldn't be too difficult to accomplish since Tywin has surely got the dominant genes."

 

Tywin had never known what fun was, but now, he was totally finding out about the concept.

He turned to Jaime, gestured with the fork in his hand and said in the most innocent tone, "Though I think I would accept a child with Sansa's looks. What do you think of a Lannister with red hair?"

"Aarghlarghlargh," Jaime answered.

Tywin nodded.

"Yes, it's outrageous and unheard-of, but why actually not?"

Sansa cut in, "Isn't Lord Marbrand from the West and a redhead, too?"

That was the very moment when Tywin knew his young wife could meet anyone at any given cocktail party, and she'd play them all like a fiddle.

 

He nodded at her, then turned to his youngest son. It was the first time he could look at Tyrion without feeling the hatred that had always burned deep down in his core.

Tywin would have an heir with Sansa at some point. After that, he wouldn't have to worry about the Lannister succession anymore.

Aloud, Tywin said in a markedly mild voice, "By the way, Tyrion. As you know, Sansa and I will be returning to the Rock tomorrow, and I do remember you've still got so many books on dragonlore at home. Should I have them sent to you since you've relocated yourself here? - Jaime, Cersei, Joffrey, Tyrion, don't stare at me as if our sigil was a carp."

 

Tyrion shook himself, coughed and cleared his throat.

"Erm... erm... Yes, father. Why not. Thank you."

His deformed son gazed at him, clearly awaiting a nasty comment.

Tywin looked back at Tyrion and said, "You should taste one of these oysters, son. They're delicious."

 

It was then that King Robert regained what little senses he possessed.

"Ah, my lord, I must say that the marriage bed is seeming to have the most positive effects on you."

Instead of feeling annoyed, Tywin just arched his eyebrows.

"There's indeed a lot to be said about a happy marriage bed with a single and all the more enthusiastic wife in it, Your Grace. Maybe, you want to give it a try yourself."

 

There was a collective gasp at the dinner table.

King Robert's face turned thunderous.

"As if it were possible with your daughter!" he boomed.

Tywin looked at his son-in-law.

"Cersei isn't happy in this marriage. You're not happy in this marriage. Perhaps you should reach a mutually beneficent decision. And once you've put your mind to motion, you might reconsider the line of succession as well, but that's just a personal afterthought of mine."

 

Tywin knew perfectly well he'd have never ever said such a thing in his life until five minutes earlier. He'd have rather hacked off his sword hand. Yet, now he was looking at Sansa, who was looking at him, and his words made sense to him. They shouldn't feel right for an ambitious man like him - and yet they did.

 

King Robert hammered with his fist onto the table.

"This banquet is over!" he hollered. "Servant! Bring that casket to my room, and the roast too. And now off with you!"

 

Everyone rose and left.

When Tywin and his wife were on their own again, Sansa asked timidly, "Do you think he'll put us into prison for insubordination?"

Tywin shook his head.

"He'd have done that at once if he had had a mind to it. No, he'll get himself into a stupor and that's it."

"Do you think the two will heed your advice?" Sansa wanted to know.

Tywin shook his head.

"Cersei wants to remain queen. She's invested too much into this project to give it up. And while Robert is impulsive, he fails at tactical thinking and strategic decision-making as soon as he leaves the military field."

Sansa sighed and Tywin nodded. In companionable silence they ambled back to their personal wing, and Tywin knew as surely as he knew the sun to rise and to set on a daily basis that nobody from his family would ever forget this evening.


	34. Contact

The next morning, Tywin awoke and sensed his cock had recovered - and that it was up to no good. He rubbed himself against the warm body in his arms to convey his point. Thankfully, the young woman at his side was all too willing to cater to his needs.

"You always feel so good," she murmured and smiled at him sleepily. "Come into me."

 

Sansa didn't need to ask him a second time. With a smooth movement, he slid into her, and he needed to close his eyes for a moment, so delicious was the sensation.

Casually, Tywin ground himself into Sansa and together, they no less than frolicked around between the sheets. This was also due to Sansa's ready eagerness.

While Tywin was someone who liked to control any given situation, he realised he found it enjoyable his wife met his lust with her own one. Sansa was both sensitive and confident, and she explored her sexuality with natural enthusiasm. Considering the... most unusual beginning of their affair, this was a remarkably positive development, and Tywin welcomed it wholeheartedly. While their relationship was marked by extreme personal differences they fit together where it counted. Especially in bed.

Sansa arched into Tywin and sighed.

"Mmmmh, oh yes, don't ever stop," she begged.

 

Well, Tywin certainly didn't mean to end their juicy activities any time soon. And he flattered himself he had taught her well so far. Of course, there were still many things he could teach her. He hadn't shown her anything about anal games yet, and he certainly meant to instruct her in that area... only Sansa's cunt was so sweet he always ended up there first.

In and out Tywin slid, and there were wet little noises with each movement, which Tywin accompanied with a deep groan. After a while, Tywin repeated the sound, tensed, and exploded. Once he had recovered, he rubbed Sansa's nub until she followed him over the cliff.

 

Tywin purred. This was a biginning for a day he could appreciate.

Contentedly, he grabbed his mobile while Sansa rubbed her face against his shoulder.

Tywin flicked through the latest news of the Westeros Post. Suddenly, his eyebrows rose.

Sansa looked at him at once.

 

"What is it?" she asked.

"Ah," Tywin uttered. "Interesting economical news. Dorne is sending the Iron Islands a dozen new warships."

Sansa sat up.

"Dorne? The Iron Islands?"

Tywin nodded.

"The very same."

He could see his wife think - despite just having been fucked into oblivion. He saw her make connections. And he couldn't help but feel a little proud of her. When had he ever felt proud of his children? Or grandchildren?

 

"There are still things I don't understand," Sansa said.

Tywin shrugged.

"As a businessman I must say that the details about the payment modalities would be most revealing."

Sansa asked, "Will the police check on these details?"

Tywin cocked his head.

"Probably not. If there are no visible traces."

Sansa smacked the mattress with her hand and hissed.

"Turning into a Lannister feline, by the look of it," Tywin said in an amicable tone.

"Pah!" Sansa made, and Tywin could hear exactly the same vibe in her voice he used himself when he intended to shut someone up without making many words. Remarkable how she was picking up things from him. His own children had never truly mastered the aspect of commanding respect. Whereas Sansa could be lying in bed, naked, sweaty from their lovemaking, with mussed hair, and she was more impressive than anyone else.

 

Tywin breathed out and suggested a hearty breakfast.

Sansa grabbed her own mobile and checked on it while Tywin was readying himself for a shower. Suddenly, Sansa's eyes widened, and she squealed. A hand flew to her mouth.

Tywin scratched his nose.

"Don't tell me my grandson has just declared his eternal love for you."

For a split second, Sansa's eyes flickered towards him, then back to the screen.

"Mother has written," she breathed.

Tywin's shoulders tensed.

 _"Fuck,"_ he thought.


	35. Mother's mail and heading home

Sansa's eyes were glued to the screen where she inhaled her mother's words.

 

"Sansa,

you must be aware of Theon's demise. Now, I want to tell you that the police have found signs of your father's medicine in his room. At the same time, Theon's mobile and his laptop have disappeared. The security cams have shown no signs of what has happened to these objects.

Be that as it may. By the look of it, Theon didn't commit suicide, and it has turned out that he was the one responsible for your father's death. While I'm still full of grief, it comes as a relief to me that obviously you didn't drive your father to his untimely death. And while your behaviour has caused us all much sorrow of late and has had grave repercussions, there is now a chance for a reunion of the remains of the family. I'm willing to assume that it was your lack foresight as well as the rashness of the media, rather than bad will on your part, that led to the desaster.

Sansa, your hasty marriage with this Lord Lannister shows how desperate you must have been. It burdens my heart to know you've had to bind yourself to such a horrible man. The mere thought of the two of you together... the ways he must have shamed you... Gods.

I've learned that your father's last thoughts were on the matter, too, and that he thought you must have been a victim of manipulation of the worst kind. I'm convinced of the same now. I wish things hadn't developed in the way they did so that we could have solved this conflict before you were wisked away for an unwanted wedding.

There is a lot we've got to process now, Sansa, but together,somehow we'll be able to cope with our problems. Arya only mentioned today that the lone wolf will perish, but the pack will be strong. And she's right here.

You can leave this disgusting man now. In fact, you must. Do it at once, and come home. It'll be the only chance for a peaceful reconciliation of our family. I'm sure Lord Lannister won't want to let you go, cold-hearted egoist that he is; so be quick and persistent. He mustn't have a chance at laying his grubby old paws on you any longer. Do tell me if you need help.

Love,

your mother"

 

Sansa's lips trembled.

So here she was with a - likely unique - chance at reconciliating with her family. At the same time, Sansa understood the lines well enough: it was either the North or the West. Either Stark or Lannister. From the way she had phrased her sentences, her mother wouldn't accept a middle ground for her daughter.

 

What now?

Sansa missed her family. Her siblings. Everyone from Winterfell. Her heart was bleeding. So what should she do?

 

There was a cough behind her.

Staring into nothingness, Sansa handed her husband the mobile. Tywin read the message in silence and didn't say anything when he had finished.

After a long moment, Sansa croaked, "When the scandal broke loose... there was something you did to ensure I'd marry you, right?"

Tywin's ongoing silence was telling enough. Sansa's mind ran wild. What could he possibly have -

She winced.

"My old mobile - it didn't work when I needed it most."

Tywin's body was as stiff as a statue's. Curtly, he inclined his head.

 

Sansa uttered a sob.

Then, she said in a tiny voice, "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Tywin answered flatly, "I somehow sensed from the beginning that you were different. That you've got the material to become a grand lady. A grand Lady Lannister. And after the last evening, I thought you might even squeeze an ounce of love from me against all odds. Maybe even two."

Sansa looked at her husband, and his gaze was as intense and controlled as it could possibly be.

 

She sighed and said, "I need to think about all of this for a while."

Tywin turned on his heels. Naked as he still was after their lovemaking, he strode to the bathroom. Sansa thought that his state of undress was oddly befitting the situation.

Next, she looked back at the e-mail. In a way, neither her husband's nor her mother's behaviour did really surprise her. Still, she was disappointed by both. Thankfully, Tywin took a long shower. And he surely took an extended shave, too.

Again and again, Sansa mulled things over. Asked her heart for guidance. Why, oh why did things have to be so complicated?

 

In the end, her husband came in again, his skin soft from the long exposure to water. He simply looked at her. Expected her verdict.

Sansa said, "I've got to take a shower now, too. After all, I'm going home."

It was as if the light was eclipsed from Tywin Lannister's eyes. He simply nodded.

And Sansa went on, "You're not asking me where that is - home?"


	36. Answers and remaining questions I

A doubtful look entered the Lord of Lannister's green-golden eyes where only darkness had been a second before.

He said, "And why would there be the slightest chance you might deem Casterly Rock your home now? You've only been there once - and just for a few hours at that?"

 

Sansa couldn't understand how someone whose mind was so sharp it bordered in brilliance could be so obtuse in this situation.

"Tywin, it is true that I don't know the castle. Nor Lannisport. But it's your home, and you're my husband, so it's my home by definition now."

Her husband scratched his nose and looked to the side. His voice was pointedly offhand when he spoke.

"For a moment, I was under the impression I wouldn't be your husband for very much longer. I do have this tendency to drive family members away, and it invariably ends in ongoing mutual repudiation. Speaking of family - what about your folks in the North?"

 

Sansa breathed in and out.

"Tywin, I'm angry with you. And for very good reasons. Could I have talked to my father when the scandal started, I would have at least heard his voice one last time - if nothing else. Given the mood he was in at the time I'd surely have married you nevertheless."

Tywin blinked.

Before he could say anything, Sansa went on,"I know you're not a trusting person, but your manipulation is still something I have to chew on. Of course I'm angry - and I shall be so for a while. Having said that, I must point out that I spoke a vow back in Essos, and I mean to take it seriously. Besides - what kind of a person would I be if I gave up after the first slight? I wouldn't be better than my mother. I've just learned it the hard way what it means not to be given a second chance, especially a second chance without any preconditions. It's something you should bear in mind, too, should I ever accidentally wrong you. And with regard to my mother: the one who asks me to choose between one beloved person and another is already on the losing side. Per definition. Even if it tears my heart apart."

 

Sansa fell silent when it dawned on her what she had just admitted.

Tywin stared at her, and his breathing accelerated.

 _"Uh-oh, I mustn't pad his ego any further, given what a lion-peacock he already is!"_ Sansa thought.

Aloud, she emphasised, "For the time being, however, my feelings for you come only second in line. It'll be your task to win my trust if you want this marriage to last. And in the meantime, I'll consider you my escort husband."

She made a point of coolly ogling his exposed physique.

 

A moment later, her husband's body made impact with hers, and he all but threw her onto the mattress.

"I'm. No-one's. Escort. Understood?" he ground out between clenched teeth. A vein swelled at his neck.

Sansa realised that anybody else but her would be probably losing control of his or her bladder in this situation; she wasn't frightened herself, but she was willing not to underestimate her husband's ire. If only they weren't naked! Such a detail was really too much of a diversion in the case of a conflict between spouses.

Sansa looked up at her husband. Adamant.

"But Tywin, my blood is up from our row now, and I'm in need for a second tumble this morning. As it happens, I can sense you getting hard again so you could service me well enough."

 

Tywin scoffed.

"Service? Do you think that THIS is a service?"

He rammed himself into her.

"THIS," he spat, "is pure egoism. MY pure egoism."

Sansa clenched her jaws.

"How convenient," she ground out. "Do proceed."

She didn't need to tell Tywin twice. With all the wildness he possessed he thrust into her. Fleetingly, it occurred to Sansa she should be surprised that her husband was still capable of a second round after their first lovemaking - and such a passionate one at that. However, she naturally didn't have the time to mull things over.

 

In the end, they both lay on the bed, panting; and Sansa asked herself if they'd be sore between their legs every day from now on.

"Looks like I've destroyed your attempt at cleaning yourself," Sansa pointed out and couldn't keep a smug vibe from her voice.

"I can have a second shower. Together with you," Tywin replied.

Sansa waved her hand.

"I'm still angry with you about manipulating my mobile. You go first. I'll answer my mother in the meantime.

To her surprise, Tywin didn't argue with her and disappeared. Probably it was because he had given her all the energy he had had left. For the time being.

 

Sansa returned to her mobile and typed in an answer for her mother.

"Mother,

I'm so glad to hear you're willing to re-establish a contact with me. It's my greatest wish to be on friendly terms with our family. I only ever wanted to help, and for a moment, I thought I'd die when the scandal broke loose and I didn't have a chance to return home. My heart has been full of grief like yours ever since. It is so shocking to see how desaster must have unfolded, from my first plan to help the family to Theon's death.

I wish I had never listened to Petyr Baelish - but he was father's public relations man, so I trusted him when he suggested to camouflage my ask for support at the Rock.

Now the point is that you've asked me to leave Lord Lannister.

Perhaps I may remind you of the Tully words "Family, Honour, Duty". As it is, I've given Lord Tywin my vow to be his wife,  and he's given me his to be my husband. As a result, he's family now, too. And it is a matter of my own honour and duty to fulfil my new role at his side. This is even truer since Lord Tywin lifted me up when I fell and nobody else was there for me. I know he did it for his own reasons, but I was dependent on him, and he could have offered me a different, far less honourable deal. Notwithstanding, he was willing to introduce me into his family and to give me my reputation and a position back. While being manipulative, as you say, he's still shown me more respect and has treated me more honourably than I'd have anticipated. He's earned himself my support - and now, he's earned himself my heart, too.

You see... I'm not blind, and I can see well enough he's not what others would call a "benevolent man". Yet, I've found out first-hand that Tywin Lannister does have an insular streak of goodness in him - and I mean to nurture it and to make it stronger. Unlike Arya, I've never been a revolutionary. I'm milder. A long-term reformer. And I mean to alter and to better the Lannister rules from within, even if it'll take years to change the system.

Please, mother, accept it that what has happened has happened. That I mean to live according to my new situation in lfe does not mean I'll ever forget my Stark heritage, just like you've never forgotten your Tully origins. I hope our reconciliation will proceed despite my own plans not aligning with yours. I miss you.

Love,

Sansa"

 

With a sigh, Sansa pressed the "Send" button. She didn't have high hopes, not after what had happened in the recent past, but she didn't want to give up completely.

If she calculated her chances for the future, she was more optimistic with regard to her husband, and that said a lot, given what a difficult man he was.


	37. Answers and remaining questions II

Later, in his solar, Tywin realised how very much Sansa had changed within an extremely short time. He thought of how much potential had been lying dormant before they had met, and of how her maturity had popped up afterwards as if it had been a Jack-in-the-box. As if she'd been waiting for a man like him who'd be in a position to guide her in the right direction. That he was such a man was half a surprise, given his cunning on the one hand and his admittedly anti-social footprint on the other. What was the real wonder was that Sansa had developed deeper feelings for him.

As she had explained it, her anger was temporary, and Tywin felt no remorse for what he had done. He was just astonished that Sansa thought she'd have married him anyway. Tywin was far more doubtful about the outcome of it all, had he not manipulated her mobile. And yet, despite her annoyment, Sansa had come up with something that was basically an involuntary love declaration.

Of course, she was a young woman, emotional and easy to impress and to enthuse - she naturally wouldn't use the term "infatuation", but a big word like "love" although it was still too soon to do so. Love needed time to grow. It needed time, the deeper knowledge and companionship of one another.

Still, Tywin could only marvel at how it had all come to pass. And he did have to admit to himself that what he was feeling for his second wife was infatuation that could well grow into love in the course of time. That he had reacted to her like this from the very first moment. That his initial passion was taking roots. How was this even possible?

 

Tywin rubbed his face. He looked at a little photo in his wallet.

 _"Joanna, I've never wanted this to happen,"_ he thought. _"You've always been my everything. But here we are. Who would have ever thought I could still have intense feelings? And for a woman - a wife - at that. Still. You'll always have a special place in my heart and thoughts."_

 

Sighing, his mind returned to the present and to what was going on. Next door, his men were packing the few personal belongings he wanted to take to Lannisport. He hadn't brought anything from Qarth, but he had purchased a few items during his time in the capital. It wasn't as if he enjoyed prolongued shopping sprees, or as if he needed tons of bags with new items. Yet, he always made sure he got a new suit with the latest cut from the best shops in the Street of Tailors, or an elegant pair of shoes from Shoemaker's Square, or a silken tie, or a leather cover for his tablet... such sort of things. Not much, but always of the finest quality.

 

Sansa had bought more new things, which he had encouraged. She was his wife now - she couldn't dress like a flashy school girl anymore. Thankfully, Sansa understood this. What was even better was that elegant, classy cuts were becoming her, and she seemed to appreciate this discovery. Tywin had also seen to it that she got a piece of jewellery or two, but of course, she'd get the finest gold accessories in Lannisport. Tywin was confident they'd find something nice for her there, too.

 

His mind turned to his family and his business. After his double shower, he had had a quick meeting with his children and his grandchildren. Cersei, Jaime, Tyrion and Joffrey had been a nuisance, like always, and Tywin had been happy King Robert had been out hunting and had simply left him a short greeting. Strangely enough, Tywin had noticed that he was less bitter around his children than he had used to be.

And while he had never shown much interest in his grandchildren before, he had given them a second look this time. Why had he never noticed that Myrcella was about to turn into a beautiful, but also intelligent young lady? And why had he never seen that Tommen probably lacked some intelligence but possessed a - probably useful - stalwartness that reminded Tywin of Kevan?

Before he had really known what he was saying, he had offered Cersei's two younger children to pass their summer holidays at the Rock and - what was more important for them - at the beach. Myrcella and Tommen had exchanged confused glances, with an underlying thrill at the prospect of getting away from their ever-quarrelling parents.

 

With regard to family and business, Tywin had also found it in himself to contact his sister Genna in a video conference. Hands on hips, Genna had confronted him with his recent doings.

"Really, Ty, whatever have you been thinking of late? Oh, perhaps I should assume you haven't been thinking at all, or just with your lower body parts."

Normally, Tywin would have cut the line at this point and wouldn't have talked to his sister again for a year.

Instead, Tywin had said, "As it happens, I've indeed used ALL my body parts of late. My brain, my private parts - and my heart, wouldn't you believe it?"

Genna had gaped at him, but Tywin was already used to such stares from family members.

 

"Sister, I don't have a magic wand and can't turn your own marriage into a happy one, but you could at least wish ME well. I'm still surprised myself, but I must tell you that my young wife possesses all the makings for a good Lady Lannister."

Genna had still been staring at him as if he'd grown dragon wings.

"Aha," she had made and had cocked her head. "And what do you want me to do? Don't tell me you're just calling me because you've just re-discovered your brotherly love for me as well."

Tywin had placed a hand on his heart, a half-smirk tugging at a corner of his mouth.

"Sister, it saddens my heart to hear that you're not believing in my brotherly devotion. Though it might sadden me even more that I've become so easy to see through."

Genna had waved her hand.

"Balderdash. I've known you all my life. No wonder I can read your intentions. And I've always known you without the slightest trace of humour. If it eases your mind: this new sort of acid sarcasm makes you even creepier. And now out with it. What do you want?"

"Ah, sister. As you know, some of your ferret-faced in-laws have been creditors of Stark Enterprises. Perhaps you'd find it in you to appease them. The business is bankrupt anyway."

 

Genna had lifted a brow at that like Tywin was wont to do when he was considering things... and judging them.

"You want to buy some of the fillets of the former enterprise, right?"

Tywin had shrugged at that.

"I've already initiated all the necessary steps. One or two of the lesser but still profitable tranches will go to King Robert, because he was Eddard Stark's friend. It'll cause a more positive public impression. And additionally, I mean to buy the most lucrative pieces myself and to transfer them to Sansa. Call it a belated wedding gift. What I don't need are other competitors scrambling for these pieces. Eventually, I'd win anyway - but the whole process would become unnecessarily costly."

 

Thankfully, Genna was a clever woman and knew when to support her brother.

"All right, Ty, I'll do my best. Oh, and I'll visit you at the Rock. Soon. I'm curious to get to know this remarkable young lady of yours. From the impact she's got on you I'm already growing fond of her. See you then."

 

As he was recollecting this call, Tywin breathed in and out and felt contented things were going so well. In this situation, it was all the more agreeable to start another video conference, this time with Kevan.

"Brother, I'm glad you're coming back, " Kevan said.

Suddenly, it occurred to Tywin that his brother wasn't just referring to his competences as the C.E.O. of their enterprise. He pressed his fingertips together and formed a tent.

"And I'm glad you're feeling like this," he said. "I hope you'll welcome Sansa with the same enthusiasm."

Kevan scratched his head.

"You see, Ty, I still don't get it. All of this." He made an expansive gesture. "But I know you rarely ever make mistakes. And on those rare occasions, you know at least how to minimise the damage. So even if I don't understand, I'll try to accept your choice."

Tywin nodded.

"Good." As an afterthought, he added, "Thank you, brother."

 

The next moment, Kevan had a coughing fit.

When he had recovered, he rumbled, "All right, Ty, let's go through the investments we wanted to discuss. Did you get the latest numbers from the Tyrells? Sheesh, they're really growing strong, just like their house motto says."

Tywin ground his jaws together and nodded again. Then, he threw himself into the business talk he was so used to around Kevan. He realised how good it was to be able to count on his brother.

After a while, Tywin asked, "Oh, and did you find out anything new with regard to the Greyjoys and the Dornish? I don't like their warship deal."

Kevan shook his head.

"Me neither. But you know what a tax haven the Iron Islands are these days. The greatest assortment of letterbox companies you can imagine. Impossible to bring light to this cobweb. And no chance of getting access to the actual contract between the Dornish and the Greyjoys. I've contacted our moles there, but they know nothing either."

Tywin slapped his desk.

"Just like I've imagined it to be. Then we've got to make do with what little we've got."

 

Later, Tywin told his wife on their way to the airport that he had no news for her with regard to her father's or Theon Greyjoy's death. Sansa looked at him with her blue eyes and cocked her head.

"From what you've told me I don't expect a quick answer. But rest assured - I'll try to find out the truth, and if it'll take a lifetime to do so."

"I know what it feels like to want to take revenge."

Sansa shook her head at him.

"This is not about revenge. This is about justice according to the law and according to history."

Tywin looked at his wife.

"When it comes to morals, you're superior to your father, Sansa."

"And here I was hoping you'd say I was superior to you."

"Oh, I'd never admit to being in a second place, no matter the context."

Sansa patted his leg, and Tywin took it as a good sign her anger towards him was already abating.

"And now, Sansa, we should kiss. There will be dozens of papparazzi at the airport this time - and a squadron of security men to keep them at bay. Still, they will take their photos, and I want you to look utterly dishevelled."

Sansa blushed bright red, but her voice was calm when she answered, "Those people will pay particular attention to the stains around the zipper of your trousers."

Tywin gazed at Sansa.

"That's exactly why im wearing a long jacket, my dear."

 

When they finally arrived at Casterly Rock, Tywin felt surprisingly light-hearted. It was good to see the oh so familiar building again. The air was better here, too.

Kevan and his wife Dorna were waiting in the yard. They both smiled when Tywin and Sansa emerged from their limousine.

"Brother," Tywin said in a companionable tone. "As I can see, you didn't let the castle go to ruins during my absence. Of course, it's not as if I had expected anything less from you."

Kevan's complexion changed, and he beamed at Tywin's words. As Tywin had predicted it, his brother met Sansa with a friendly air afterwards. Dorna was guarded and didn't attract much attention since she wasn't much of an appearance, but if Tywin was under the impression that the woman was open-minded with regard to Sansa.

 _"Good. Sansa will need a reliable counterpart to me having Kevan as a confidante,"_ he thought.

He knew all too well Sansa was a sociable woman and that some friends would do her good.

_"Could I be one of those friends?"_

The question crossed his mind unbidden, and he negated it at once. And yet...

At that moment, Tywin heard Sansa giggle. He turned his head and heard and saw Dorna laugh so that the woman looked more attractive than usual, and Kevan's bulging eyes were upon the scene as if it was the first time he saw the Wall in the North, or the Giant of Braavos.

Tywin clapped his brother on his back and murmured, "That's the effect my wife has got on other people. She's inspiring. I think NOW you can understand."

Kevan shot him a side glance.

"Yes. Yes indeed. Now I can understand you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for the epilogue?


	38. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are - almost 40 chapters from the beginning with more than 500 kudos. I'm overwhelmed, to say the least. Thank you all, for every little kudo and for all those most inspiring comments. It has been a great joy to write this story, and I hope you'll love the rest, too!

_One year later_

 

The baby was a week late. Tywin hadn't been able to sleep the last three days before the wafts finally set in. An hour into Sansa's screaming like a banshee at the Mother's Hospital, he fainted unceremoniously on the cold tiles of the floor.

Another hour later, he was sitting with the doctor in the man's solar.

"We've tried everything," the man said. "The baby hasn't turned, and now it's got stuck. We've got to carry out a Caesarian cut to hopefully save the mother and the child."

Memories from decades ago flooded Tywin's mind. A red mist rose in front of his eyes.

The next thing he new was that the doctor was lying on the ground with a bleeding lip, Tywin's knuckles were burning, and no less than four security men were holding him and shoving him out of the of doctor's solar and into a police car.

 

Tywin continued to rage in a cell at the police station, and he threatened the men there that he had the best lawyers at his command who would get him free in no time.

Finally, a hard-faced man approached him. The name tag told Tywin he was called Constabler Bronn.

The policeman said in a calm and cold voice, "My lord, no matter whether your lawyers are geniuses or not - you'll still be stuck in here for hours. And your behaviour doesn't help your wife one whit, don't you realise?"

Tywin grabbed the bars of his cell. His eyes were like will-o'-the-wisps.

"Don't you see, man? My first wife died in the birthing process! What if my second wife dies, too? I must be there! I must help her!"

"You can't help her at all - especially not with your antics!" Constabler Bronn thundered. "Don't you see that behaving like a bloody madman is counterproductive? Your wife is undergoing an operation, and I daresay she's busy trying to survive. What she does NOT need is a traumatised husband who's so panicky he's lost his mind."

 

On hearing those words, Tywin sank down to the earth and started to sob until spasms shook him.

Constabler Bronn disappeared and returned a moment later. He was holding a bottle in his hands.

"This is against the rules, and it's just cheap booze. Not the fine stuff you must be used to. But it'll surely do its job."

Tywin had never been one to drown his sorrow in alcohol - but in this moment, he took the offered bottle with shaking hands and set to work. Methodically, as he did everything. Since he wasn't used to such a strong drink, he passed out after half a bottle. Later, he vomited into the cell. And again. Not to speak of the mother of all hangovers that tormented him a few hours later. Tywin suspected that this result had been the constabler's very intention.

 

When Kevan arrived, Tywin's brother shook his head at him, clearly not being able to accept that the Lord of Lannister was able to turn into such a heap of misery.

"Ty, whatever have you been doing?"

Tywin didn't care.

"Kevan - any news from my wife?"

His younger brother sighed. Then smiled.

"Yes. The operation went well. For both. You've got a healthy boy. Sansa has called him Eddwyn, since you've been absent and couldn't make a decision."

 

Tywin palmed his face and sobbed in sheer relief.

He heard Kevan say, "Genna and Dorna and Lady Stark are there."

Tywin's head shot upwards.

"Lady Stark!? She hasn't visited Sansa in Lannisport once over the last year!"

Kevan sighed.

"Looks like a baby can do a lot for a reconciliation. Speaking of reconciliation. Your wife is as furious about your behaviour as I've never seen her before. She doesn't want to see you for as long as she's got to stay in hospital. Which is in line with the hospital's order for you to stay away from the building. If not for Sansa's most charming apology to the doctor you'd be facing prosecution for criminal assult now."

 

Tywin had learned many new things over the last year. Now, he could add a new ability: the one to blush.

"I saw red because of what's happened to Joanna."

"I know."

Kevan sighed again.

Then, he smiled like a boy who had been able to play a trick on someone.

"But I could make a secret video of your boy and could also smuggle it out of the hospital."

Tywin's eyes widened. Staggering, he got to his feet, no matter how his head pounded and whizzed.

"SHOW ME!"

Kevan laughed and flipped out his mobile.

 

The next moment, Tywin saw his son. He was a very pink and rather dented-looking fellow; Tywin remembered that his twins had been the same right after their birth, and that they had looked much better a few days later. They had been like butterflies who had just left their cocoon and who needed a little time to unfold.

"Look at the red fuzz on his head," Kevan said.

Tywin nodded through the bars of his cell.

"Just the way we had planned it." At that moment, the boy started to cry. Tywin wrinkled his brow. "Not my conversation abilities yet, but he'll be getting there."

Kevan coughed.

"If I may say so - your conversation abilities haven't been exactly praiseworthy ever since before the birthing process set in."

Tywin rolled up his eyes, but he knew his brother was right.

 

***

Sansa could return home with Eddwyn a week after the Cesarian cut. She was still exhausted, but also relieved she didn't have to stay in hospital any longer. Besides, Tywin should be finally given a chance to see his son. Of course, it had been his own fault that he wasn't allowed into the hospital enymore, and Sansa had been so, so ashamed of his behaviour.

But Kevan and Dorna had talked to her and had told her of how Joanna Lannister had died while giving birth to Tyrion and what it had done to Tywin's psyche. Her anger at her husband had still been there afterwards, but she had also felt compassion to some extent.

 

When she arrived at the hospital doors with Eddwyn on her arms, Tywin was standing there. He was trembling. If it had needed anything more to tell Sansa what he had been through these last days she would have known now.

Gingerly, he wrapped his arms around his wife and his son. Sansa knew that a year prior, nobody would have ever thought that the word "gingerly" and "Tywin Lannister" could be used in the same sentence. Her husband looked at his son, green-golden eyes beaming, and with a wet sheen about them Tywin would never admit to anyone. And the security men in the background, who pretended not to notice the emotional state of their boss made a point of scanning the area from behind their sunglasses and of not looking into their direction.

What had lingered of Sansa's anger evaporated with a little "plop".

"Gods, Sansa!" Tywin breathed. "When the doctor told me you needed a Cesarian cut, I thought I was losing you - like I had lost Joanna. But I couldn't live without you. I. Could. NOT. Not. Ever. Gods, I love you so."

 

Tears welled up in Sansa's eyes. Tywin had never uttered these words before.

"I love you, too," she breathed.

Gently, she placed a kiss on his lips. He kissed her back.

"Where's your mother?" Tywin asked afterwards.

Sansa smiled.

"Gone. I think she wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the idea to cross your path. But it was good to see her again. All my siblings have sent their congratulations."

"Now that's an improvement for you, isn't it?" Tywin said.

Sansa nodded.

"Indeed! And you know it. Now. Mother and I have agreed upon Bran and Arya spending their summer holidays at the Rock. Together with Myrcella and Tommen. Isn't that great?"

Tywin winced.

"The Rock will be utterly crowded," he lamented.

Sansa laughed.

"I knew you'd support the idea. - Now, don't you want to hold your son?"

 

Tywin's eyes became as big as saucers when Sansa put Eddwyn onto his arms. What a spectacle it was to behold!

Eddwyn, however, was quite underwhelmed, protested... and audibly and smellably shat into his nappy right then and there.

Tywin sniffed and furrowed his brow.

"Ugh! You knew this would happen, wife, admit it!"

Sansa laughed.

"I didn't know, but I'm not surprised. Your son is coming after you."

"Whatever does THAT mean?" Tywin growled.

Sansa looked at him with sparkling eyes.

"I mean that the next time, we should opt for a girl with your looks and MY temperament."

Tywin bristled, but Sansa left him no time for a reaction.

"Just returning to the women's bathroom on the ground floor. I'll be back in five minutes with a newly-swaddled baby."

 

When they finally arrived at Casterly Rock together, Sansa couldn't help thinking what a long way they'd come together. How much she and her husband had both changed, and hopefully for the better.

For the time being, she'd be pausing from her psychology studies, but so far, things had gone very well, and she was getting close to her bachelor degree. After that, she'd aim for the master's degree.

She had also given much of her energy into the remains of her father's business, which Tywin had purchased for her. It had been hard work, especially during the weeks before her delivery. Inexperienced as Sansa was, she had also needed and heavily relied on her husband's help. Of course, she had spoken up against some of his harsher cost-cutting ideas, but on the whole, things were going well these days, also thanks to him.

Kevan's and Dorna's family had gained a special place in her heart, too.

Contact with the Stark family had been rather irregular, but as the recent developments showed, things were on the rising side again.

 

With regard to her father's and Theon's death, Sansa hadn't been able to uncover anything yet, but she hadn't been idle. She'd found out about her husband's system of agents and had started to install her own moles. Sooner or later, they'd dig up some interesting details, of that Sansa was sure.

 

She glanced at her husband, who was busy with his son.

"I'm happy, you know?" she said.

Tywin looked up at her.

"Because of me?"

"DESPITE you."

Tywin snorted.

"I'll _despite_ you when I return to our marriage bed and cause you to mewl like a proper feline in sheer extasy."

Sansa grinned and bared her teeth.

"Go on like that, and I'll cause you to wail like a feline on whose tail someone has stepped."

"As if you had a chance, wife."

Sansa continued to smile and thought, _"Just you keep telling that yourself. When it comes to you, I've got EVERY chance."_

 

 

**THE END  
**


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